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THE 



IMPERIAL 



HIGHWAY 




JEROME PAINE BATES, A.M. 



ILLUSTRATED WITH NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS. 



CHICAGO: 

GEORGE W. BORLAND & CO. 

1881. 



\N 



^%nf 



Copyrighted by 
GEORGE W. BORLAND & CO. 

1881 



Blaktly, Brown & Marsh, Donahue & Hennebury, 

Printers, Chicago. Bookbinders, Chicago. 



PREFACE. 



"Another new book?" Yes, another new book. "Will 
the making of books never end?" Never until the world 
ends. And why should it end when people must read, and 
other people must write? " What is the purpose of this book? " 
We answer, in the design of both publisher and author, the 
peculiar features of excellence in this book were to be as fol- 
lows: 

1. A harmonious combination of subjects and themes never 
before inclosed within a single volume. While separate and 
detached portions of this book may be found elsewhere, the 
volume, as a whole, is not to be duplicated in the literary realm. 

2. Its adaptation to all classes of people. Fortune, Happi- 
ness and Heaven constitute the three principal objects of life. 
There is, therefore, hardly any person, no matter what may be 
his or her age, avocation, or condition, but can find in this 
book something which will please, instruct, and benefit. 

3. The wide range and fundamental nature of the topics 
treated. Only by a thorough and careful perusal of the book, 
can it be learned what an immense territory of thought, feel- 
ing, sentiment, and doctrine, has therein been traversed. 

E"ow, whether we have succeeded in accomplishing our de- 
sign, we will leave our readers to judge. The author has 
freely emptied into this book the contents of his own thought, 
experience, and observation, and has as freely drawn from the 
thought and experience of others, more gifted than himself, 



PREFACE. 



whenever his object was to be advanced by so doing. Partic- 
ularly in the preparation of Part First, the author acknowl- 
edges his indebtedness to the previous efforts of Professor 
Mathews and other gleaners in the same field. 

The original conception of the book lay for a long time in 
the mind of the publisher before it was committed by him to 
the author's hands for tangible and practical embodiment. The 
credit of it, therefore, belongs to him. But the working out 
of the design, on the other hand, has been accomplished by the 
author alone. Before he undertook the work, as well as while 
engaged in its preparation, his deepest thought and motive in 
reference to its prosecution was a strong desire to do good by 
scattering broadcast such seeds of truth and fact as would be 
found in the final harvest-day to have borne fruit unto life — 
business life — social life — religious life. The author cherishes 
the warmest and strongest sympathy with all throbbing hearts 
and struggling lives, and earnestly hopes that the words herein 
found, will convey healing, vigor, inspiration and peace to all 
who read them. 

J. P. B. 



IN THREE PARTS. 



PART I. THE HIGHWAY TO FOKTUNE OK SUC- 
CESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 

' PAET II. THE HIGHWAY TO HAPPINESS IN 
SOCIAL AND FAMILY LIFE. 

PART III. THE HEAVENLY HIGHWAY TO ETER- 
NAL LIFE. 



CONTENTS. 



PART I. 

CHAPTER I. 
The Imperial Highway. 

Roman Roads, their Durability and Uses — Resemblance of the Highway 
to Fortune, Happiness and Heaven to these Roads — Difference between 
Rich Men's Sons and Poor Men's Sons — Poem by James Russell Lowell — 
Every Man Capable of Building such a Highway — Poem by Longfellow — 
Different Kinds of Ability— Sketch of General Grant's Life — Sketch of Sir 
Francis Horner, the Eminent Scotchman — Maxims of Lady Mary Wortley 
Montagu, and Richard Sharp 17 

CHAPTER II. 

The Power of Ciecumstances. 

Good and Bad Luck — Shakespere's Thought upon the Subject — No Die- 
tation or Fatality in Circumstances— Man free to Choose and Act— Great 
Men who Believed in Luck — Favorable Circumstances and Favorable Op- 
portunities the same — Happy Accidents — Bad Accidents — Sir John Moore 
— The Power of Circumstances more Helpful than Otherwise — Necessity 
of Seizing and Improving Opportunities — Fortune not Blind — Quotations 
from the Poets 26 

CHAPTER III. 

The Right Vocation. 

Lecture by P. T. Barnum — The Right Calling in Life very Important — 
Be what Nature Intended you For — A Good Many Honorable Employ- 
ments besides those Connected with Law, Medicine and Divinity — Sketch 
of a Boy who Chose the Wrong Profession — A Child's Bent of Mind often 
Displays Itself in Early Life — Illustrations of this Fact — Changes some- 
times Beneficial— All Legitimate Avocations Honorable —The Woman 
Question — More Women than Men in this Country— Woman's True Posi- 
tion and Work in Life— Adapted to but Few Kinds of Business — Chances 
for Education — Their Right to the Ballot — Arguments of Henry B. Black 



X CONTENTS. 

well and Anna C. Garlin in the Affirmative— J. G. Holland in the Negative 
— Summing Up of the Subject 34 

CHAPTER IV. 

The Right Location. 

City and Country as Places for Settlement — Great Rush to Cities — Cities 
Overcrowded — The Agricultural Ciass Most Prosperous of Any — Testi- 
mony of Alexander Hyde — Agriculture the Primeval Occupation — The 
Foundation of All other Business — Adapted to All Conditions of Society 
and Life — A Pleasant and Honorable Occupation — History of Agricul- 
ture — Agriculture in the Beginning — In Egypt — In Greece — In Italy — 
Roman Farmers — In Britain — Jethro Tull — Arthur Young— Sir Humphrey 
Davy — In Our Own Country — Poetical Description from Homer's Odyssey 
— From Thomas May — From Sir Walter Raleigh — From John Gay — From 
Goldsmith— From James Beattie — From Matthew Prior — Hard Work in 
the Cit}' — Not much Chance to Make Money — Fascination of City Life to 
Many— How to Make Farm-Life more Pleasant 54 

CHAPTER V. 

Concentration op Mind and Power. 

The Imperial Highway Straight and Narrow — Two Kinds of Dissipa- 
tion — Danger of Attempting too Much — Very Few Universal Geniuses — 
Most Great Men Stick to One Thing— William Pitt— Other Examples— 
The Power of Attention — On the other Hand, One-Idea Men sometimes 
Useless — Edward Everett — Learning to Think— Examples of Concentra- 
tion 73 

CHAPTER VI. 

Self Help. 

Self-made Men— Some Truth in the Idea and Some Nonsense— Too much 
Difficulty Disheartens — Folly of Looking for Riches as the Gift of Others 
— Lord Thurlow— Rich Men's Sons not all Fools — Poor men who have 
Risen to Eminence by their Own Exertions — Early Life of Andrew Jack- 
son—Saying of John C. Calhoun — Independence of Thought — Think- 
ing for One's Self— Danger of Self-Conceit — Be True to Your Convictions 
— The Present Age Peculiar — Our Own Country Peculiar — Self-Adver. 
ising— How Far Allowable— Example of Sharp Practice in this Line., 84 

CHAPTER VII. 

The Spirit of Work. 

Idleness — Saying of Jeremy Taylor— Labor Always Necessary to Suc- 
cess — Sir Isaac Newton— Examples of Hard Workers who became Dis- 
tinguished — The Peel Family in England — History of Calico-Printing — 
Sir Robert Peel— Lord Brougham — James Watt and Matthew Boulton — 



CONTENTS. XI 

Richard Arkwright and Cotton-Spinning — Dr. John Hunter — Dr. Edward 
Jenner — History of Vaccination — Sir Joshua Reynolds — Michael Angelo 
—Titian— David Wilkie— Haydon— Turner — George Kemp and Sir Walter 
Scott's Monument — Handel — Haydn — Bach — Meyerbeer — Genius a 
Capacity for Hard Work — Butler, Author of " Hudibras " — Jean Paul 
Richter— Heyne— Charles Dickens — Other Examples — Tom Moore — Haw- 
thorne—Henry Clay — Dr. Lyman Beecher— Work for All 98 

CHAPTER VIII. 

GREAT AND LITTLE THINGS. 

Importance of Trifles— Illustrations — Attention to Details — Poem by 
Charles Mackay — False Contempt for Little Things — Love of "Big Things'* 
common among Men — Equal Ability for Great and Small Things Neces- 
sary — General McClellan — Napoleon — Generals Sherman and Thomas — 
Duke of Wellington— Washington— Anecdote — Charles James Fox 124 

CHAPTER IX. 

COMMON SENSE. 

The Difference Between Naturally Smart Men and Educated Fools — 
Men who Fail to Make Anything "Go," and Men who Succeed in all Things 
— Views of a College Professor — Stuffing the Mind too Much — Great 
Men who were Uneducated and Highly Learned Men who Failed — Addi- 
son, Cowper, Beethoven, Goldsmith, Watt, Boulton — Something More Re- 
quired than Simple Knowledge — Danger of Overestimating Books and 
Reading — Still, a College Education Exceedingly Valuable — What it does 
and what it does not do for the Mind. Many good Scholars and Writers 
have been Shrewd Business Men — Shakespere, Chaucer, Milton, Sir 
Isaac Newton, Grote, John Stuart Mill — Career of Disraeli. , 132 

CHAPTER X. 

GOOD MANNERS. 

Olcl-Time Politeness going out of date— Bad Effects of this — Manners of 
a Man very Important to his Success — Chesterfield's Advice to his Son — 
Anecdote of two Public Speakers — True Politeness Defined — Johnson and 
Carlyle— Jesting — Effect of Manner on Oratory — Curran's Wit — Duke of 
Marlborough — Duke of Argyle — Lord Chatham — Politeness of Military 
Men— How Politeness often is Rewarded— Views of Dr. Guthrie of Scot- 
land— Of Samuel Smiles — True Gentlemen have a Keen Sense of Honor — 
Duke of Wellington — Sir Ralph Abercrombie 152 

CHAPTER XI. 

FORCE OP WILL. 

What is Meant by this Term — Value of Will-Power — Position of the 
Will among the other Intellectual Faculties — Scandinavian Idea of Force — 



xii CONTENTS. 

Action of a Carpenter— Freedom of the Will — General Suwarrow — Sir 
Fowell Buxton — Sketch of his Career — Warren Hastings — General Wolfe- 
— Captured Texans— Napoleon — Wellington — -Wm. Lloyd Garrison — 
Savonarola— Daniel Webster— Rev. Dr. Wayland— Victories Won by one 
Man's Stubbornness— Force of Will Especially Needed in the Present 
Age — Genius Means Force of'Will — Kean, the Actor — Adversity good for 
Men if it makes them more Resolute— Handel, the Composer— Difficulties 
Disappear when Boldly Faced— Curran — William Chambers of Edin- 
burgh — William. Cobbett— Sir Wm. Phipps Searching for Sunken Treas- 
ure 1G6 

CHAPTER XII. 

EXPENDITURE OF RESOURCES. 

Speed in Horses — Reserved Power in Animals, Machines and Men — 
Necessity of Accumulating Resources — Reserved Force of an Army — 
Views of Dr. Patton — Necessity of Keeping Cool — Presence of Mind — 
Anecdote of a French Traveler — Reserved Power in Orators and Military 
Leaders— Great Debate inU. S. Senate— Daniel Webster's Speech in Keply 
to Hayne — Webster's Habits of Study — Wasting Activity of Modern Tinier 
—Men must be Well-Stocked with Po*\er and Ability — Saying of an old 
Teamster — Degradation of u Playing Out" in Life — Rufus Choate — Accumu- 
late Resourses faster than you expend them 18S- 

CHAPTER XIII. 

BUSINESS TRAITS, QUALITIES AND HABITS. 

Decision of Character — Will and Brain — Decision of Mind very Valuable 
and can be Cultivated — Views of John Foster — Of Carlyle — Of Sidney 
Smith — Napoleon's Decision — His Campaign in Northern Italy — Wei ling- 
ton's Coolness — Difference between Decision and Rashness— Necessity of 
Knowing How and When to Act — Dr. John Brown — Proverbs — Sir James 
Mackintosh — Charles V.— Pellissier — Tacon of Havana— Hugh Miller — 
Method — Power of Habit — System Among Merchants — Dr. Kane— Wm* 
Cecil — DeWitt — Sir Walter Scott's Advice — Punctuality — Lord Nil, on — 
Lord Brougham — Captain Cuttle's Watch — John Q tincy Adams — Napo- 
leon— Col. Rahl — Economy— Extravagance — The Insane Ambition to .Ap- 
pear "Big" — Francis Horner's Advice — Burns — Being in Debt — Haydon — 
Admiral Jervis — Four Rules for Money-Getting — Micawber's Summary — 
Living from Hand to Mouth — Small Savings not Appreciated — What 
these can do — Economy not Meanness — Earl of Westminster — Douglas 
Jerroid on Debt , ] <J9 

CHAPTER XIV. 

TRAITS, QUALITIES AND HABITS (CONTINUED). 

Two Kinds of Economy— Right Use of Time— U. S. Mint— Value of Odd 
Moments — Elihu Burritt— Ferguson and others— Franklin — Grote — Sir 



CONTENTS. xilT 

John Lubbock — Goethe — Savings of fill kinds Useful Some Time — Saving* 
-of Knowledge — Patting Down Thoughts and Facts in Books — Recreation 
Necessary — Variety in Study — What Constitutes Idleness — R. W. Emerson — 
N. P. Willis— Patient Working— Most Great Men begin at the Foot of the 
Ladder — Senator Wilson — Thurlow Weed — Horace Greeley — James Brooks 
— His Career — Rufus Choate— Wm. M. Evarts — The Best Results are Se. 
■cured Slowly — Carey, the Missionary — Audubon — Sir Isaac Newton — 
Thomas Carlyle— R )bert Ainsworth — Edward Livingston — Discovery of 
the Cuneiform Character — Austen Layard— Sir Walter Scott — His Habits 
of Work— Weight of Character— What the Word Means— The Sum Total 
of Life's Work— Franklin— Wellington's Tribute to Sir Robert Peel- 
Words of Granville Sharp = 223 

CHAPTER XV. 

EXAMPLES OF EXCELLENCE. 

Power of Imitation and the Study of Good Models— Essential Oneness 
of Human Nature— No one Stands Alone— Example More Powerful than 
Precept— Career of Josiah Wedgw r ood, the Founder of the Crockery and 
China-ware Trade— History of Pottery Manufacture— Herbert Minton, 
Wedgwood's Successor— John Flaxman, Artist— The English Peerage Re- 
cruited from the Industrial Ranks— Examples— Lord Eldon— Richard 
Foley, the Iron-Worker — History of Nail-Making — Henry Bickersteth — 
David Livingstone — John C. Loudon— Dr. Joseph Priestley — Cuvier — Sir 
Joseph Paxton— Dr. Marshall Hall— Sir Wm. Herschell— Hugh Miller- 
John Leyden— John Pounds, the Originator of Ragged . Schools — Illus- 
trious Dunces —Little Men 244 

CHAPTER XVI. 

IS SUCCESS ALWAYS DESIRABLE ? 

Yes and No —Power of Money — Poverty sometimes a Disgrace— Labor 
Always a Blessing — Its Preservative Influence — The Faculty of Accu. 
mulation— Many Things Better than Money or Success— Honor — 
.Magnanimity— Enjoyment— Money does not Always Bring Happiness — 
John Jacob Astor— The Rothschilds— Stephen Girard— The Rich some- 
times more Embarrassed than the Poor— Character, Virtue and Usefulness 
not Dependent upon Wealth— The Greatest and Most Successful Man is he 
who Secures the Noblest Manhood and does the Most Good 280 



CONTENTS. 



PAKT II. 

CHAPTER I. 
Nature of Happiness. 

Happiness a Reality — Pleasure of Anticipation — Hope and Imagination 
as Estimated by the Poets Campbell, Young, Rogers and Byron— Bishop 
Butler's Definition of Happiness — Influence of Circumstances — Money 
Essential, but not All— Happiness lias its Seat Within — Poetical Quota- 
tations from Burns, Pope and Thomson — Harmony between One's Nature 
and his Circumstances 293 

CHAPTER II. 
Health and Happiness. 

Good Health the First Element of Happiness— The Old Idea about Dis- 
ease and Piety a False One — Care of the Body an Important Part of Edu- 
cation— Elihu Burritt— Milton— Lord Palmerston — Sir Walter Scott — The 
Body has some Rights of its Own— Everything in Man Dependent upon 
Physical Vitality — Attention of the Ancients to the Maintenance of Bodily 
Vigor — Cicero — Aristotle and Plato — The same True of the Great Men of 
Modern Times — Napoleon — Horace Mann — Some General Laws of Health 
— Nerve-Force — Mrs. Dr. Blackwell's Views — Nervous Diseases on the In- 
crease • 301 

CHAPTER III. 
Rest and Recreation. 

American Overwork and Under-Rest — Sudden Death from this Cause — 
Dean Swift — Leyden— Sir William Hamilton — Henry J. Raymond — Ex- 
hausting Effects of City Life— European and American Farmers— The Old 
World Fondness for Play— Work as a Slavish Habit— No Happiness in 
Such a Life— Recreation and Rest Indispensable— Benefits of Sleep— Meth- 
ods of Recreation 3H; 

CHAPTER IV. 
Society and Happiness. 

Not Good to be Alone— Good Effects of Social Intercourse— Moroseness- 
a Vice— Cheerfulness a Virtue— Power of Human Sympathy— The Race 
Mutually Dependent— Dr. Guthrie— H. Clay Trumbull and the Convict — 
Good and Bad Society— Power of Associates to Influence Character— Circe 
—Moderation Necessary— Too much Society as Bad as None 321i 



CONTENTS. XV 

CHAPTER V. 

Human Love. 

Some Affect to Despise This — Who such Persons are — Love, the very Life. 
Blood of Happiness — Different Degrees and Qualities of it — Its Effects on 
Character — Views of George Chapman and Shakespere — The Course of 
Love and the English Skylark — Quotation from a Popular Lecturer — Views 
of Peter Bayne, Grail Hamilton and Augusta Evans— Incident — Poe's.Poem 
of "Annabel Lee " — Heart-Life and Love— In its Purity, a Sublime and 
Ennobling Passion — Modern Life Unloving and Unlovable— Poem by Mrs. 
Emily C. Judson— By Byron 327 

CHAPTER VI. 

Courtship. 

This Follows Naturally from the last Topic Treated— Much of it Silly, 
but very Sweet, nevertheless — We Cannot be Wise and Dignified all of the 
Time — Courtship a Civilizing Agency— Charles Lamb's Experience— 

E. C.'Stedman's Exquisite Poem on " Seeing a Girl Home " — Pleasures of 
" Love's Young Dream ' ' — Getting " Struck " anl the Effects of it — A Good 
Deal of Courtship False and Deceptive — Dangerous to Allow this Kind to 
go on— Dr. Wise's Advice to Young Men — Love Makes One Appear at 
their Best— Letters of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu — Anecdote— Money and 
Courtship— Uselessness of "Engagements" — They do more Harm than 
Good 886 

CHAPTER VII. 

Marriage. 
An Ordinance of God — Both Happiness and Woe come of It — Saying of 

F. W. Robertson — The School-Girl's Idea— Views of many " Children of 
Larger Growth " — Mrs, Hemans' Estimate— A Marriage Ceremony Solemn 
— Extravagant Notions Entertained of Marriage Happiness — This Delu- 
sion a Blessing — Much of Married Unhappiness Needless— It Springs 
often from General and Outside Causes— Bad to be Tied to One you 
Cannot Love— How Far can Others be Allowed to Fill up the Void — Jeal- 
ousy — Family Exclusiveness Wrong — Difference between Married and Un- 
married Love— Loving Attentions — Power of the Wife in Married Life — 
More Marriages Needed in Modern Life— Married Life Better than Single. 

549 
CHAPTER VII [. 

HUSBAND AND WIFE. 

Marriage a Change of Relations between the Parties— Married Life a 
New Life Essentially — Courtship often a Period of Delusion and Decep- 
tion on Both Sides— Consequently Married Life is often a Surprise— Dis- 
appointment sometimes Ensues— It is well to Expect this Beforehand- 
How Mutual Happiness can only be Enjoyed— Mutual Adaptation Neces- 



XVI CONTENTS. 

sary — Confide in Each Other— Special Duties of the Husband —Provide for 
the "Wife's Support— Love his Home and Stay There— Poem— What the 
Word Husband Signifies— Be Kind and Affectionate to his Wife— Also Help 
her when he can— Special Duties of the Wife— Signification of the Word 
Wife— Wives Either very Good or very Bad— One Head to the Household 
— Make Home Happy— Keep Well and Cheerful —Be Neat and Tidy- 
Study the Husband's Peculiarities— Don't Quarrel — Be Moderate in Ex- 
penses . . 362 

CHAPTER IX. 

HOME. 

Necessity and Sweetness of a Home— The very Word a Soothing One- 
Jenny Lind — Home the Seat and School of Virtue and Joy— lis Influence 
in Life— Home a Type of Heaven — Our Nature Demands a Home -Extent 
of its Power in After Life— What Constitutes a Home— Home Should be a 
Cheerful Place — Goldsmith's Longings and Feelings— Woman and Home 
— Woman is Home's Queen— That is her True and Proper Sphere— Board- 
ing-House and Hotel-Life — The Fashionable and Lazy Woman — House- 
keeping — Dr. Holland's View — What Woman Ought to be— Her Power 
over Man— Poem by Ada V. Leslie — Strivings to be Something else than 
Home's Queen, Foolish and Unreasonable 380 

CHAPTER X. 

EARLY CHILDHOOD. 

Early Joys Great and the Early Home a Glorified Spot — Poem by Rich- 
ard Henry Stoddard — The Home-Feeling— Inner Life and Early Impres- 
sions—Poem by Wordsworth— Sacredness of Early Childhood— Mrs. Brown 
ing's View of it— James Russell Lowell's— Dr. Harbaugh's — Byron's — 
Longfellow's — Spring-time, Summer, Autumn and Winter Scenes of Child- 
hood— One Should be Thankful for this Period of Life 394 

CHAPTER XL 

HOUSEHOLD PETS. 

Pets Demanded by Human Nature— This is Especially True of Children 
— How they Assist in Developing Character — A Sketch of a Pet Kitten — 
Kitty Asleep and Kitty Awake— Kitty at Night — Her Death — Inferences — 
Pets Among the Lowly and the Fallen Ones of the World — Poem by Cow- 
per — A Hu mining-Bird — Old People's Pets— Little Effie .404 

CHAPTER XII. 

THE FAMILY. 

Is the Oldest and Best Institution on Earth— No Permanent Happiness 
for Man Outside the Family Relation— Begins Properly with the Baby — 
Value and Blessedness of Babies— Poem by J. G. Holland — A Baby is — 



CONTENTS. XVli 

what?— Influence of Children on Parents— Views of Mrs. L. H. Sigourney 
—Poem by Win. C. Bennett— Care of Infants— Children— The Love of Chil- 
dren Healthful and Pleasing— The Roman Lady's Jewels — Martin Luther's 
Teacher — Discipline of Bringing Up Children — Poem by Longfellow — 
Many Parents Hold Children to be Little Better than Nuisances — Heartless 
Mothers — Incidents — Poem— Where and How to Bring Up Children, by 
Dr. Holland— Advantages of Country Air and Exercise 416 

CHAPTER XIII. 

THE MOTHER. 

Sacred, Precious Name— The Molder of Human Life— The Angel-Spirit 
•of Home— Exaltation of Motherhood — The Agent of Civilization— The 
Vital Interests of Society Hang Upon Mothers — A Mother's Love— Ex. 
ample of This — All Great Men have Great Mothers— Examples of this 
Truth— The Mother of Washington, of Lord Bacon, Baron Cuvier and 
many others— Sketch of Mrs. Ramsay of South Carolina — Modern Mothers 
— Cowper's Poem on his Mother's Picture — N. P. Willis 435 

CHAPTER XIV. 

HOUSEHOLD VIRTUES. 

Family Government — How the Chinese Do— What Americans Do Now — 
Puritanic Times— Submission to Authority a Duty — Connection between 
Home Life and Civil life — A Lawless Child Makes a Bad Citizen and a 
Poor Christian — What Dr. Peabody Says — Family Government Should 
Begin Early — Must Not be Overdone — Value of Kindness in Children — 
The Emperor Titus — Filial Love— A Mother and Her Two Little Girls — 
Order — A Home Picture — Mary and Martha — No Comfort without Order 
— A Happy Family — Respect for Old People — Antiquity in anything Ven- 
erable — Example of Parents — The Spartans — Poem by Ralph Hoyt 451 

CHAPTER XV. 

EDUCATION OF GIRLS. 

Past and Present Women — Domestic Education Much Neglected Now 
—This is Wrong— Sketch of a Family in Misfortune— Good and Poor 
Housekeepers— Lady Hastings and Her Servants— Mistakes of Mothers- 
Wife of Cromwell— Girls Should be Kept Healthy— Also Truthful and 
Natural— A Good Daughter— Lucy— Let Girls Learn to Work— Trying to 
Cook a Rabbit— Ellen and Her Father— Advice to Girls in the Choice of a 
Husband 468 

CHAPTER XVI. 

WORDS TO YOUNG MEN. 

Three Temptations Peculiar to This Class — Idleness and Love of Ease — 
Description of Young Men Who do Not Work — Activity an Important 



xviii CONTENTS. 

Element in Happiness — No Pleasure in Enforced Ease — Bad Effects of De- 
spondency — Dishonesty — Ebb and Flow of Commercial Tides — Seasons of 
Business Depression — These Produce Villains and Scamps — Some Men are- 
Inherently Vicious — Others are Trained to Vice — Extravagance of Many — 
Running in Debt — The Defaulter — Money Corrupting — Happiness and 
Riches Not Always Connected — Licentiousness — Power of Women over 
Young Men — The Libertine — Two Kinds — Marriage Honorable in All — 
Advice to Young Men in Choosing a Wife — Poems 485 

CHAPTER XVII. 

A SUNNY DISPOSITION. 

Very Much Depends on This — Some Would be Miserable in Paradise — 
Be Cheerful — Value of this Trait in Women — But Few Happy Faces — 
Alexander andDiogones — Kind Words — Gentle Dealings — The Fault Find- 
ing and Fretting Person — With some, Everything goes Wrong — Work and 
Worry— The Slanderer— Evil Speaking— All This Does No Good— Anecdote- 
of a Bad Boy— The Poet Southey 502 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

BEAUTY AND HAPPINESS. 

The Love of the Beautiful in Human Nature — This Peculiar to Human 
Beings — Taste, Good and Bad — John Ruskin — Wordsworth — Beauty of the- 
Sky and Clouds — A Sunset — A Sunrise — Beauty of Water — Ocean Foam 
and Waves — Rivers — Beauty of Mountains — Of Trees and Forests — Of the 
Blade of Grass— Human Beauty More Imperfect than Natural — Beauty 
in Women — Necessity of Cultivating this — How it is Secured — Intellect 
and Spirit — True and Lasting Beauty 516 

CHAPTER XIX. 

I 

DECORUM AND DRESS. 

Value of Politeness — Deportment— Ralph Waldo Emerson on Manners — 
In What True Politeness Consists — Self-Command — Respect for Others- 
Little Courtesies — Conversation — Madame de Stael — Rules for Conversa- 
tion — Dress — The Exterior and First Impressions — Dress Should be Con- 
sistent with Age — Rules for Dressing Becomingly — Riding Dresses — Trav- 
eling Suits— Close of Part II 536< 

PAET III. 

INTRODUCTION. 

Religion a Fact, like any other — God is— The Soul is — The Bible is — 
Spiritual Realities as real as any other kind— Much Passes Under the- 
Name of Religion that does not Properly Belong to it 555- 



CONTENTS. Xix 

CHAPTER I. 

OUTLINES OF TEUE RELIGION. 

Great Diversity of Sentiment and Opinion with regard to Religion — The 
Causes of this — Lack of Study — Early Training— Illustration of a Mounted 
Globe — The Character of God— A Holy Beiug — The Character of Man — An 
Unholy Being— Quotations from the Poets— Necessity of a Mediator,. 
Christ — Necessity of the Holy Spirit — Of the Bible as a Guide-Book — Five 
Constituent Elements — Many People Partly Right — Religious Truth and 
Error both Absolute and Relative 557' 

CHAPTER II. 

INVISIBILITY OP GOD AND HEAVEN. 

Prof. Phelps of Andover — An Impressive Mystery — Old Testament Saints 
— The Heavens Shut up— But what of it — The Spiritual Present better than 
the Spiritual Past — Difference between Former Times and Now — A Com- 
pleted Bible— The Holy Spirit— The Power of Faith— Better Off As We Are 
—God All About Us 569 

CHAPTER III. 

GROUNDS OF RELIGIOUS CERTAINTY. 

Is Religion a Myth or a Fact — How can we Know that it is True — The 
Testimony of the Senses — The Law of Cause and Effect — The Existence of 
the Christian Church — The Testimony of History — Authenticity and Genu- 
ineness of the Bible — The Law of Evidence — The Testimony of Conscious- 
ness — All Men cannot be Deceived — A Three-fold Cord 580 

CHAPTER IV. 

REPENTANCE. 

John and Christ — The Preaching of Our Day — Repentance the First Step 
in a Religious Life — Condition of Human Nature — Differences in the Quality 
of the Same — Moral Qualities not Transmissible— What is Repentance — It 
Involves Three Elements — Results of the Work — Bunyan's Pilgrim — Pardon 
and Peace 590 

CHAPTER V. 

SIN AND PARDON. 

What is Sin — What is Crime — The two Identical — Human Law and 
Divine Law — Law not to be Trifled With — God's Law Immutable — Law 
and Atonement — The Nature of Justification — Double Effect of it — The 
Condition of it — Faith — An Allegory — Results of Pardon 600* 



XX CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER VI. 

NATURE AND POWER OF FAITH. 

Importance of Faith— Three Ways of Gaining Knowledge— Sight— Rea- 
son— Faith— An Allegory— Faith Rests on Evidence— Different Kinds of 
Faith— The Process of Believing— The Power of Faith— Destroys the Seduc- 
tiveness of the Present World by Revealing a Better One— Heroes of Faith 
—Sir Humphrey Davy's Testimony— How Faith is Secured— Christ's Ex- 
ample ■ 611 

CHAPTER VII. 

REGENERATION. 

Christ and Nicodemus— Their Interview— Striking Features of it— What 
Part of Man is Touched by the New Birth— Not the Physical Nature— Not 
the Intellectual — The Love of the Heart— This the Centre of Human Per- 
sonality—Why Called a New Birth— Illustrations— Nicodemus a Type of 
Humanity— Value of Outward Forms in Religious Life— Remarks of 
■Gotthold 622 

CHAPTER VIII. 

BELIEYING ON CHRIST. 

All Men Believe in God— Nothing Praiseworthy in Such a Belief — The 
Historical Existence of Christ — Christ a Revealer of His Father — Difference 
in Believing on God and Christ — One Near and the Other Remote — Con- 
version and Christ — Rationalists — Schliermacher's Argument— A Belief in 
Christ as the God-Man the Only Christian Belief. 631 

CHAPTER IX. 

CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

Different Kinds of Love — Christian Love Supernatural in its Origin- 
Characteristics of the Same — No Respecter of Persons — Natural and Spiritual 
Love — Christian Love Pure — A Mother's Love — The Love of Christ — Ten- 
der and Patient — His Disciples— Doubting Thomas — Christ on the Cross — 
An Impartial Love— Christ Recognized no Class Distinctions — Simon the 
Pharisee — A Strong and Enduring Love — A Self-Sacrificing Love — The 
Stoop from Infinite to Finite — Christ's Death — A Burning and Indignant 
Love — Connection Between Love and Hate 640 



CONTENTS. XXi 

CHAPTER X. 

THE HOLT SPIRIT. 

Who and What is the Holy Spirit — This Question an Important One — 
Christ and the Spirit — More than a Mere Comforter — Relation of the Spirit 
to the Trinity— Offices of the Spirit — Enlightens — Convicts— Reveals — 
Sanctifies — Variety and Extent of His Operations 653 

CHAPTER XI. 

PRATER. 

Prayer Real — Also Reasonable and Consistent — Objections to it — Two 
Ways of Meeting These — The Faith Argument — A Question of Authority 
— Logical Argument — Unchangeableness of Natural Law — What Good- 
does Prayer do — Reflex Benefit of it — Brings the Soul into Line with God's 
Movements — Intercessory Benefit of it — Furnishes a Medium for the Com- 
munication of Blessings — Skepticism in Relation to Prayer — Prayer at once 
a Duty and a Privilege — The World Needs Prayer 659 

CHAPTER XII. 

CONSCIENCE. 

Two Tribunals — Conscience and the Bible — A Moral Judge in the Soul 
— Does Not Make Laws — Mistake of Many on This Point — Its Decisions 
Dependent on the Amount of Light and Knowledge Possessed — Conscience 
Not to be Violated Except When Opposed to Some Known Higher Law — 
Conscience of a Wicked Man — Of a Christian — A Guilty Conscience — 
Byron's Testimony — A Source of Blessing or of Torture 668 

CHAPTER XIII. 

THE VOICE OF DUTT. 

Choosing Between Two Courses of Conduct — Meaning of the Word Duty 
—Foundation of the Idea — Duty and Right — Gocl the Source of Both — The 
Best Interests of the World — Of the Individual — The Words " Ought " and 
" Ought Not "—What They Stand For— The Number of Influences Oppos- 
ing Duty and Right — Duty and Self-interest — Duty the Regulator of a 
Christian Life 674 

CHAPTER XIV. 

TIME AND ETERNITT. 

Time a Prize and a Power — The Control of it — What it Does — What it 
Brings to Us — Material and Spiritual Possibilities Inclosed within the 
Germ of Time — Each New Day — Great Value of Time — Time and Eternity 
— Their Relation to Each Other — Building of Solomon's Temple— How to 
Redeem Time : 68a 



PAKT I. 

Success in Business Life. 



" Years ago, a penniless boy on a journey paid for a meal by doing a job 
of work. Afterward lie came to be the possessor of millions which he 
bestowed with a lavish hand upon works of charity and philanthropy. 
Thus fortune honored him, and he honored fortune. And when he died, 
the ships of two nations carried the remains of George Peabody to his 
native shores." 



"It is lesson after lesson with the scholar, blow after blow with the 
laborer, crop after crop with the farmer, picture after picture with the 
painter, and mile after mile with the traveler, that secures what all so much 
■desire — success." 



No abilities, however splendid, can command success without intense 
labor and persevering application. 

A. T. Stewart. 



I have always had these two things before me: Do what you undertake 
thoroughly. Be faithful in all accepted trusts. 

Nicholas Longworth. 



THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY TO FORTUNE, 
HAPPINESS AND HEAVEN. 



PART I. 

SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 



CHAPTER I. 

The Imperial Highway. 



Our souls whose faculties can comprehend 

The wondrous architecture of the world, 

And measure every wandering planet's course, 

Still climbing after knowledge infinite, 

Aud always moving with the restless spheres, 

"Wills us to wear ourselves and never rest 

Until we reach the ripest fruit of all. 

Christopher Marlowe. 



NT the palmy days of Roman glory, before railroads were 
^ known or even thought of, when the Eternal City "sat 



upon her seven hills and from that throne of beauty ruled 
the world," there were constructed imperial and military high- 
ways or roads leading from Rome to the most distant provinces 
of the Empire. Parts of these highways after the lapse of 
more than 2,000 years, are still. seen in a comfortable state of 
preservation — so solidly were they built. These roads became 
very useful; in fact, without them the vast empire could hardly 
have been held together. Over them the victorious legions 
passed rapidly from one point to another to quell revolts or 
make new conquests. They were, as far as possible, built 
2 




IS THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

straight and level, smooth and wide. On them, many soldiers 
could march abreast. Hills were cut down and valleys filled 
up, ravines were bridged and swamps embanked. Enormous 
were the sums of money expended upon them, and prodigious 
the amount of labor bestowed; and they are universally regard- 
ed the most useful, as they are the most lasting, of all Home's 
public works. 

To a spectator it must have been a most inspiring sight 
to have seen the Homan cohorts marching solidly and 
grandly over one of those paved highways on their way to a 
distant province. The superb discipline manifested in their 
every movement, the bright eagles on their banners flashing 
in the sunlight, the stern visages of the warriors themselves, 
the bows and shields and spears, the equipages and retinue of 
the commanding officers, and the heavy, lumbering catapults 
(machines for throwing stones and darts) and battering rams 
bringing up the rear, were enough to quicken the blood in the 
veins of any man, even though he had lived in our famous 
19th century. Sometimes royal personages with official splen- 
dor passed over these highways, either in conjunction with the 
army or without it, and hence they were truthfully styled 
imperial highways. They were still more imperial, however, 
on account of the scientific and durable manner in which they 
were built, and the right royal and noble purposes which they 
subserved. 

In like manner, there is an imperial highway (as we shall 
endeavor to show T ) to Fortune, Happiness and Heaven; but 
like those which existed in olden time, it is not found ready- 
made. On the other hand, it must be built and perfected, 
as those were, at some expense of time and toil. And it is the 
object of this volume to tell you how to build it, and what 
materials to use. Such imperial highways have been built all 
along through the ages from the very beginning of time. 
Noble, brave, heroic men and women have lived who have 
resolved to carve out for themselves through opposing hills of 
difficulty, and valleys of poverty and quagmires of discour- 
agement, a straight, level, and solid road to success, usefulness 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 19 

and final felicity; and they have done it. It cost them years 
of patient labor and persevering courage; it tried their souls 
sometimes pretty severely; but yet, in spite of all drawbacks, 
the highway was built. 

Now and then some rich man's son, or some persons with 
kind and influential friends, are set down upon such a high- 
way which was bequeathed to them. They were unfortunate 
enough to inherit a road to wealth and happiness which had 
been constructed by the lifetime toils and sacrifices of over- 
fond parents or deceased relatives, and they have stepped right 
out upon such a highway without being compelled to spend an 
hour in the process of building. But with what result, in the 
majority of cases? Why, the. foolish fellows or silly .girls not 
knowing what the road cost, or what it was actually worth to 
them', have soon tired of the monotony of walking along a 
highway which they did not themselves build, and have wan- 
dered off into by-ways and wild paths, and at length have 
found themselves lost in the tangled undergrowth of some 
forest of ignorance, or sunk in the depths of some swamp of 
dissipation, and were never able to get back to the solid road- 
way again. Thousands of them have died, poor, miserable 
and wretched, because they did not first build up their own 
highway and so know what it w r as worth to them. Young 
man, don't covet riches until you know by experience how 
riches are gained. Ready-made highways to fortune and 
happiness, in too many cases, lead only to disaster and the 
devil. Better build your own road and then walk upon it w r ith 
firm and even step. As James Russell Lowell sings: 

The rich man's son inherits lands, 
And piles of brick and stone and gold, 
And he inherits (bah !) soft white hands, 
And tender flesh that fears the cold, 
Nor dares he wear a garment old. 
A heritage, it seems to me, 
One scarce would wish to hold in fee. 

The rich man's son inherits cares; 
The bank may break, the factory burn, 
A breath may burst his bubble-shares; 



20 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

TheD, soft white hands could hardly earn 
A living that would serve his turn. 

What doth the poor man's son inherit? 

Stout muscles and a sinewy heart, 

A hardy frame, a hardier spirit ! 

King of two hands, he does his part 

In every useful toil and art ; 

A heritage, it seems to me, 

A king might wish to hold in fee. 

O poor man's son, scorn not thy state ;; 
There is worse weariness than thine. 
Toil only gives the soul to shine 
And makes rest fragrant and benign. 

We lay it down as one of the fundamental facts of life that 
every man can be something and do something worthy of him- 
self and his opportunities, if in the first place he knows how 
to go to work, and then keeps at it until he accomplishes his 
chosen object. The poet Longfellow has well said that " the 
talent of success is nothing more than doing what you can do 
well, without a thought of fame." That is, by working con- 
scientiously and faithfully without trying to make a big 
" splurge" over it, or attempting to "show off" too much, 
every man or woman can, in his or her sphere, be successful 
and fulfill life's great mission. This is not saying that all per- 
sons are equally endowed with mental gifts, or that every man 
is a natural genius and only needs suitable opportunity to 
become the peer of the really great and good who, in all ages, 
have largely guided the current of thought and activity in the 
times when they lived, and who have left their indelible im- 
press upon the pages of human history. There are, without 
doubt, real and specific differences in the minds and hearts of 
men, as there are real and visible differences in their physical 
constitutions and bodily powers. Some men are made up on 
scant and small patterns; others are simply medium or medi- 
ocre in ability; while others still are large and heroic by 
nature; but as every man is made in the " image of God," 
so he can, by the proper cultivation and training of his powers 
and by the diligent use of all the means within his reach, be 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 21 

a truly fortunate or successful man in. his business life, in his 
family and social life, and in his moral and religious life. 
Does the reader remember that old, familiar, yet immortal 
poem by Longfellow, entitled "The Psalm of Life?" Its easy, 
flowing numbers and strong, pertinent truthfulness stir the 
thoughtful soul like the clarion call of a trumpet. Let me 
quote a few verses here. 

"Tell me not in mournful numbers, 
Life is but an empty dream ; 
For the soul is dead that slumbers, 
And tilings are not what they seem. 

Not enjoyment and not sorrow 
Is our destined end or way; 
But to act that each to-morrow 
Finds us farther than to-day. 

In the world's broad field of battle, 
In the bivouac of Life, 
Be not- like dumb, driven cattle — 
Be a Hero in the strife ! 

Lives of great men all remind us 
We can make our lives sublime, 
And, departing, leave behind us 
Footprints on the sands of Time." 

There can be no truer utterance than this : " What a man does 
is the real test of what a man is." Among the different kinds 
of ability which different men possess, the kind which all men 
respect and most men rank as highest in the scale of their 
estimation, is that which enables its possessor to do what he 
undertakes, and attain the object of his ambition or desire. 
Human ability in general can be classified under distinctive 
heads, and is commonly called by distinctive names. For ex- 
ample, there is the speculative or philosophical cast of intellect; 
the ability to think long and connectedly upon abstract truth 
or propositions; the ability to investigate and discuss intelli- 
gently the higher range of questions and topics in physical, 
mental and moral science. Then there is the poetical talent; 
the power to see visions of beauty and phases of truth in the 



22 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

scenes and events of ordinary life, and the power' to express 
these in easy, flowing and melodious rhyme. Then there is- 
the executive talent; the power to manage well, large and crit- 
ical enterprises; the power of handling men and facts; the 
power to carry a scheme or purpose into immediate and telling 
effect; the power to " run things " generally and make them 
"go." Then again there is the ingenious, inventive talent; 
the capacity for making discoveries in science, mechanics, and 
the useful arts; the power which makes a man fertile in expe- 
dients and leads him to contrive all sorts of objects for orna- 
ment or use, or for both combined. Then there is the ability 
to write, which authors and editors are supposed to have; the 
ability to sing, play and compose, which is the peculiar char- 
acteristic of musicians; the ability to imitate and personify 
which belongs especially to actors; together with a hundred 
other kinds which we will not now attempt to enumerate. But 
after all, the ability to succeed in life, or as another has happily 
expressed it, the talent to "get on in the world," is something 
superior to all these if a man can have but one kind; because 
it is infinitely more practical and useful. 

A striking and shining example of this ability of which we 
are speaking and which it is the avowed object of this book to 
stimulate, is seen in the life and wonderful career of the man 
who has already filled a place in American history second only 
to that of Washington himself, and who has recently been 
honored at home and abroad as no other American ever was 
since the nation achieved its independence. We allude to 
General and Ex-President Grant. A more ordinary looking 
and appearing man never before occupied such a foremost 
place in the world's thought. He exhibits in his features and 
manner not the least sign of genius, or rather, as Senator Dick 
Yates of Illinois once faithfully remarked of him, "his genius 
is neither ostentatious or dramatic, but it is the genius of ac- 
complishment. When his work is done, there it is, done; and 
there is the man, except for the work, ordinary as before." 

As is well known, Grant's early career was as checkered, and 
at times as unpromising, as any person's could be. He has 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 23 

not always been where lie is now, on the topmost round of the 
ladder of fame, but lias known what it was to be down at the 
foot of the dizzy steep up which he has so successfully 
climbed. As a boy at home, he was distinguished for nothing 
save fearlessness, slowness of comprehension, and a certain 
invincible pertinacity of will. At West Point, he occupied only 
a medium position in his class, and gave little promise of his 
subsequent eminence. As a Captain, in the war with Mexico 
he did nothing extraordinary. In Oregon, with his regiment 
after the war closed, he became positively dissipated and was 
dismissed by the War Department on account thereof. When 
he landed in 'New York on his way home, he had not a single 
dollar in his pocket and was forced to borrow. On his farm 
near St. Louis, he had hard work to support himself and fam- 
ily. As a business man, subsequently, he was not a success. 
But when the Civil War broke out, every power in his nature 
came into pla}^, and he went quietly to his work, doing that 
which first came to hand, and never complaining of any want 
of appreciation on the part of the public. How he rose from 
one position to another, until he held the very destiny of the 
Nation in his hand; how well he discharged the responsibilities 
which the people, through their representatives, put upon him; 
how he brought the war to a triumphant close, was chosen 
President, re-elected, and is now considered the best living 
specimen of an American hero by all the crowned heads of 
Europe who vie with each other in doing him honor, is too 
fresh in our thought and memory to need recapitulation. 

But General Grant with all his honors thick upon him is 
nothing more than a good, common-sense man, with a level 
head, a patient, plodding mind, a true heart and a heroic, fear- 
less, persistent purpose and will. He never tries to do any- 
thing which he does not know how to do, and when he begins 
a work he proposes to himself to stick to it until he accom- 
plishes his object, " if it takes all summer." In a word, he has 
patiently built for himself, and now walks with firm and even 
step upon an imperial highway to fortune, fame and earthly 
happiness. 



24: THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

Similar in nature to the career just outlined is that of Sir 
Francis Horner, the eminent Scotchman. Lord Cockburn in 
his "Memorials" of this man says: "The light in which his 
history is calculated to inspire every right-minded youth, is 
this: he died at the age of thirty-eight, possessed of greater 
public influence than any other private man, and admired, 
beloved, trusted, and deplored by all except the heartless or 
the base. No greater homage was ever paid in Parliament to 
any deceased member. Now let every young man ask, How 
was this attained? By rank? He was the son of an Edin- 
burgh merchant. By wealth? Neither he nor any of his rel- 
atives ever had a superfluous sixpence. By office? He held 
but one, and only for a few years, of no influence, and with 
very little pay. By talents? His were not splendid, and he 
had no genius; cautious and slow, his only ambition was to be 
right. By eloquence? He spoke in calm, good taste, without 
any of the oratory that either terrifies or seduces. By any 
fascination of manner? His was only correct and agreeable. 
By what, then, was it? Merely by sense, industry, good prin- 
ciples, and a good heart, — qualities which no well-constituted 
mind need ever despair of attaining. It was the force of his 
character that raised him, and this character not impressed 
upon him by nature, but formed out of no peculiarly fine ele- 
ments by himself. Horner was born to show what moderate 
powers, unaided by anything whatever except culture and good- 
ness, may achieve, even when these powers are displayed 
amidst the competition and jealousy of public life." 

Some men are always saying: " If and if this and that thing 
were not as it is, or if I had lived in other days it would have 
been different with me." But such kind of reasoning and 
murmuring never yet built an imperial highway to success in 
any undertaking or enterprise. Lady Mary Wortley Mon- 
tagu used to say, " If you wish to succeed, you must do as you 
would to get in at a door through a crowd. Hold your ground 
and push hard. To merely stand still is to give up your 
chance and hope." No man has any right to ask himself 
whether he is a genius or not; what he has to do is to go to 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 25 

work quietly and steadily, and if he has but moderate abilities, 
industry will at least partly supply their deficiency. What 
most men want is not talent, but purpose; not the power to 
achieve, but the will to labor. Said good old Richard Sharp, 
"After many years of thoughtful experience I can truly say, 
that nearly all those who began life with me have succeeded 
or failed as they deserved." The wants of society raise thou- 
sands to distinction who are not possessed of uncommon en- 
dowments. The utility of actions to mankind is the standard 
by which they are measured, and not the intellectual suprem- 
acy which is established by their performance. 




26 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY, 




CHAPTER II. 

The Power of Circumstances. 

There is a tide in the affairs of men 
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune: 
Omitted, all the voyage of their life 
Is bound in shallows and miseries. 

Shakespere. 



HERE is -hardly any quotation in literature, or any cur- 
rent sentiment in the mind, which is oftener dwelt 
upon secretly, or more frequently paraded upon paper, 
than the one expressed above. There are hundreds of men 
who are always talking about good and bad luck, and who 
seem to think that some mysterious and invisible Fate is 
ordering the course of their lives and bestowing success or 
failure as its caprice or fancy may at the time decide. It will 
be well, therefore, at the outset to examine this question a lit- 
tle, and see, if we can, how much of truth there is involved in 
it, and how much of error. 

That circumstances have a good deal to do in determin- 
ing the course and current of human life, no thoughtful per- 
son will deny; for his own experience, to say nothing of 
observation and historical research, would immediately con- 
vict him of falsehood if he should deny it. "There is a 
divinity (or something else) which shapes our ends, rough-hew 
them as we will." But even Shakespere's thought here is not 
that this divinity, or this something else, invariably dictates 
just what a man shall be or shall do, but rather that this di- 
vinity is so kind, merciful and fatherly in his feelings toward 
the race, as well as in his government over it, that he comes 
into life's workshop where man is building up an eternal 
character and destiny, and graciously smooths, polishes and 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 27 

rounds off what man in his ignorance and feebleness leaves in 
a rough-hewn state. In other words, he so fixes up the results 
of human life for men, that they are in a much better shape 
and condition than they would be but for his kindly interfer- 
ence and assistance. 

But there is no absolute dictation or iron-bound fatality in 
all this — rather the opposite. While, therefore, we would not 
ignore the existence of a great Superintending Power in the 
universe, in whose hands and under whose control are all 
things in heaven and on earth; while we willingly recognize 
the existence of some circumstances over which man has no 
jurisdiction; still there is nothing in these two facts which in 
any way hinders man from being successful and happy if he 
observes well the laws of his being and the great laws which 
govern and control the movements of ordinary life, commercial 
activity, and historic development. We are not mere living 
and breathing human machines, by any means; but on the 
contrary, we are free and responsible agents gifted with the 
power of choice, capable of discovering right from wrong, and 
with full and complete liberty to do what we will, and be what 
we can. 

Dr. Mathews has well said that " there is hardly any word 
in the whole human vocabulary which is more cruelly abused 
than the word 'luck.' To all the faults and failures of men, 
their positive sins and their less culpable short comings, it is 
made to stand a godfather and sponsor. Go talk with the 
bankrupt man. of business, who has swamped his fortune by 
wild speculation, extravagance of living or lack of energy, and 
you will find that he vindicates his wonderful self-love by con- 
founding the steps which he took indiscreetly with those to 
which he was forced by ' circumstances,' and complacently 
regarding himself as the victim of ill-luck. Go visit the in- 
carcerated criminal, who has imbrued his hands in the blood 
of his fellow-man, or who is guilty of less heinous crimes, and 
you will find that, joining the temptations which were easy to 
avoid with those which were comparatively irresistible, he has 
hurriedly patched up a treaty with conscience, and stifles its 



"28 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

compunctious visitings by persuading himself that, from first 
to last, he was the victim of circumstances. Go talk with the 
mediocre in talents and attainments, the weak-spirited man 
who, from lack of -energy and application, has made but little 
headway in the world, being outstripped in the race of life by 
those whom he had despised as his inferiors, and you will find 
that he, too, acknowledges the all-potent power of luck, and 
soothes his humbled pride by deeming himself the victim of 
ill-fortune. In short, from the most venial offence to the 
most flagrant, there is hardly any wrong act or neglect to 
which this too fatally convenient word is not applied as a pal- 
liation." 

And yet it is singular how many men have professed to be- 
lieve in this foolish idea of luck or chance. "Beau Brummell," 
as he was familiarly known, (real name, George Bryan Brum- 
mell,) had what he called a lucky sixpence, which he always 
carried in his pocket. Like all other fashionable men of his 
day, (1812-20) he was addicted to gaming, and with this lucky 
sixpence about him he is said to have won 40,000 pounds in 
the clubs of London and Newmarket. Afterwards, he lost his 
sixpence and with it his "luck," as he was pleased to term it, 
was beaten out of his fortune, ran away to Calais in France, 
where he dragged out a miserable existence, and finally died 
in Caen, in beggary and imbecility. But for what, pray, was 
Beau Brummell distinguished? Simply for the fastidiousness 
of his dress. He aspired to be the best-dressed gentleman in 
England, and won his greatest victories tying his cravats. Is 
he very good authority on this subject? Cardinal Mazarin, the 
successor of Richelieu under Louis XIII, and the original 
Eothschild, seem also to have been wedded to this idea, while 
the ancient Greeks and Romans fully accepted the theory and 
called the mysterious governing power, Destiny. "Some peo- 
ple," says Pliny, "refer their successes to virtue and ability; 
but it is all fate." The great Alexander depended much upon 
luck. Cicero speaks of it in connection with the Roman Em- 
perors and Generals as a settled thing. Cgesar was carried 
away with the idea, and once when crossing the sea in a storm, 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 29 

he pompously told the frightened pilot, " You carry Csesar and 
his good fortune." Napoleon, the Csesar of modern times, 
was always talking about his "star." Marlborough, one of 
England's greatest generals, had some similar notions about 
destiny, and so did Cromwell and Lord Nelson. But Welling- 
ton, the "Iron Duke," as he was called, though he never lost 
a battle, never spoke of luck or destiny, but always carefully 
guarded himself against all possible accidents. 

About all of solid truth there is in the idea of "chance" is- 
this: Circumstances do combine sometimes to give men 
very favorable opportunities for improving their condition, as 
well as for grasping rare and precious prizes in life. These 
happy combinations of circumstances are apparently fortuitous, 
but, on the other hand, they may be the result of regular and 
established forces whose operations are entirely hidden from 
human vision; and this, doubtless, is the idea that Shakespere- 
intended to convey in the famous quotation which opens this 
chapter. "There is a tide," he says, "in the affairs of men, 
which, taken at its flood, leads on to fame and fortune;" but 
who controlled this tide, or by what laws its ebbings and flow- 
ing were regulated, he does not pretend to state. And w T ith 
good reason; for he did not know. Neither does any one. The 
utmost which can be said about the matter is, that circum- 
stances will, and do combine to help men at some periods of 
their lives, and combine to thwart them at others. This much 
we freely admit; but there is no fatality in these combina- 
tions, neither any such thing as "luck" or "chance," as com- 
monly understood. They come and go like all other oppor- 
tunities and occasions in life, and if they are seized upon and 
made the most of, the man whom they benefit is fortunate; 
but if they are neglected and allowed to pass by unimproved,, 
he is unfortunate. 

There are also such things as "happy accidents," although 
the difference between this term and the one already used is 
not very great. For example, we read of a man who, worn 
out by painful disorder, attempted suicide, and was cured by 
opening an internal abscess; of a Persian, condemned to lose 



30 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

his tongne, on whom the operation was so bnnglingly per- 
formed that it merely removed an impediment in his speech; 
of a painter who produced an effect he had long toiled after in 
vain, by throwing his brush at the picture in a n't of rage and 
despair; of a musical composer, who, having exhausted his 
patience in attempts to imitate on the piano a storm at sea, ac- 
complished the precise result by angrily extending his hands 
to the two extremities of the keys, and bringing them rapidly 
together. We also read of Mahomet, who, flying from his 
enemies, was saved by a spider's web; of a Whig Ministry, 
which was hurled from power in England by the spilling of 
some water on a lady's gown; of our own Franklin, who al- 
ways ascribed his turn of thought and conduct through life to 
the finding of a tattered copy of Cotton Mather's " Essays to 
do Good;" of Jeremy Bentham, who attributed similar effects 
to the single phrase, " The greatest good of the greatest num- 
ber," which caught his eye at the end of a pamphlet. 

But again, there are as many bad accidents as good ones, 
and they come and go just as mysteriously; so nothing definite 
can be determined concerning the causes of either good or 
bad. One man sucks an orange and is choked by the pit, and 
another swallows a penknife and recovers. One man runs a 
small thorn into his hand and dies in spite of the utmost efforts 
of medical skill, and another runs the shaft of a gig complete- 
ly through his body and lives. The Scottish hero, Bruce, after 
passing through a series of perils greater than any ever con- 
ceived by the most daring romance-writer, dies from a fall in 
handing a lady down stairs after dinner. The African ex- 
plorer, Speke, after escaping innumerable dangers in penetra- 
ting to the sources of the Nile, accidently shoots himself at his 
home in England. 

A writer in the Dublin University Magazine gives the fol- 
lowing facts concerning the poetical immortality of Sir John 
Moore which have a bearing on this subject. He says: 
'"Moore had fought as other generals had, with alternate suc- 
cess and reverse, but on the whole had just been able to keep 
his head above water before the advancing army of Soult. 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 31 

On the walls of Corunna lie met his fate, and might have lain 
there, as hundreds of others did, in an unrecorded grave, to 
this and to all future ages, had not an ordinary Irish parson, 
from a remote country parish, and from amid common prosaic 
pursuits, caught a glance, in his imagination, of the lifeless 
warrior, as he was hurried to a hasty grave, in the silence of 
the night, within the sound of the advancing enemy's guns. 
The look was enough, — the picture was taken, with its full 
significance of pathos, into the heart of the poet; and, when 
it reappeared, it was found to have been incrusted with amber, 
thereafter nevermore to pass away. It is true, little ceremony 
was observed at that burial,— 

1 Not a drum was heard, nor a funeral note ;' 

but the lyre was struck, and the echoes went forth to the ends 
of the earth ; and so John Moore passed, by the narrow chan- 
nel of those few hasty and careless stanzas, from the shores of 
oblivion, where he would have wandered till doomsday with 
thousands of unrecorded comrades, to those same Isles of the 
Blest, wherein, as we have already observed, the favorite 
heroes of all ages have pitched their tents and exalted their 
standard." 

So far then from the power of circumstances being a hin- 
drance to men in trying to build for themselves an imperial 
highway to fortune, these circumstances constitute the very 
quarry out of which they are to get paving stones for the road. 
They are, changing the fignre, the rounds in Fortune's ladder. 
They give men opportunities and occasions to do something. 
The successful man is not he who sits down and idly folds his 
arms saying, it is of no use; but rather he who takes advantage 
of circumstances when they are propitious, and endeavors to 
overcome them when adverse. " 'Tis not in our stars, dear 
Brutus, but in ourselves, that we are underlings." Luck is a 
mere bugbear for the idle, the languid, and the indifferent. 
Here are two boys for example in the same home, with the 
same parents and the same opportunities and means; one 
grows up and uses his circumstances as stepping-stones to for- 



32 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

tune, the other becomes reckless and dissipated and worthless. 
The race is not always to the swift nor the battle to the strong; 
but by the right application of swiftness and strength to the 
object in view, most any one can achieve success. For the 
world in general is won by doing the right thing, in the right 
way, and at the right time. Says -Wendell Phillips: "Com- 
mon sense bows to the inevitable and makes use of it" — as a 
skillful mariner uses the trade-wind. "It does not ask an im- 
possible chess-board, but takes the one before it, and plays the 
best game" — possible under existing combinations. 

"Who breaks his birth's invidious bar, 
And grasps the skirts of happy chance, 
And breasts the blows of circumstance, 
And grapples with his evil star," 

is, in nine cases out of ten, the fortunate or successful man. 
Every man is placed more or less under the influence of events, 
and the influence of other men, and it is for himself to decide 
whether he will rule, or be ruled by them. Those whom the 
world calls "lucky fellows" w T ill be found in the majority of 
cases, to be keen- sighted men who have surveyed the world 
with a scrutinizing eye, and who, to clear and exact ideas of 
what is necessary to be done, unite the skill necessary to exe- 
cute their well-approved plans. 

As another has said: " In the life of the most unlucky per- 
son there are always some occasions when, bj prompt and 
vigorous action, he may win the things he has at heart. Ra- 
leigh flung his laced jacket into a puddle, and won a proud 
queen's favor. A village apothecary chanced to visit the state 
apartments at the Pavilion, when George the Fourth was 
seized with a lit. He bled him, brought him back to con- 
sciousness, and, by his genial and quaint humor, made the 
king laugh. The monarch took a fancy to him, made him his 
physician, and made his fortune. Probably no man ever lives 
to middle age to whom two or three such opportunities do not 
present themselves. 'There is nobody^,' says a Roman cardinal, 
' whom Fortune does not visit once in his life; but when she 
finds he is not ready to receive her, she goes in at the door, and 




I FT D % © M Tffi DBA N ©E 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 33 

out through the window.' Opportunity is coy. The careless, 
the slow, the unobservant, the lazy, fail to see it, or clutch at 
it when it has gone. The sharp fellows detect it instantly, and 
catch it when on the wing." 

Fortune has usually been represented as a blind goddess. 
Rare Old Ben Jonson wrote many years ago that 

All human business fortune doth command 
Without any order ; and with her blind hand 
She, blind, bestows blind gifts. 

But he was speaking with poetic license just then, and told a 
practical untruth, although he only expressed a popular idea. 
Equally untrue is the following heathenish conception: 

" On high, where no hoarse winds or clouds resort, 
The hood-winked goddess keeps her partial court, 
Upon a wheel of amethyst she sits, 
Gives and resumes, smiles and frowns." 

Let us away with all such crude notions— they are unworthy 
the intelligence and enlightenment of our nineteenth cen- 
tury. Robert Burns had better sense when he wrote, 

To catch dame fortune's golden smile, 
Assiduous wait upon her. 

Fortune, luck, chance- -whatever you call it — is nothing 
more or less than a happy or fortunate combination of circum- 
stances; and circumstances arise partly from the operation of 
invisible but regular and established forces in nature and in 
God, and partly from the activity of strong minds and wills 
in brave, heroic souls. Consequently, they can be used to 
advantage or allowed to crush one, just as the person himself 
decides. 

"Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, 
Which we ascribe to heaven ; the fated sky 
Gives us free scope ; and only backward pulls 
Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull." 

Walk 
Boldly and wisely in that light thou hast; 
There is a hand above will help thee on. 

Bailey's Festus. 
3 



34 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



CHAPTER III. 
The Right Vocation. 

Brutes find out where their talents lie ; 
A bear will not attempt to fly, 
A foundered horse will oft debate 
Before he tries a five-barred gate. 
A dog by instinct turns aside 
Who sees the ditch too deep and wide. 
But man we find the only creature 
Who, led by folly, combats nature ; 
Who, when she loudly cries— forbear! 
With obstinacy fixes there ; 
And where his genius least inclines, 
Absurdly bends his whole designs. 

Dean Swift. 

Honor and shame from no condition rise ; 
Act well your part — there all the honor lies. 

Pope. 

ANY years ago, P. T. Barnum, the great showman, 
went through the country delivering a lecture on 
" Success in Life, or How to Make Money." There 
were many very funny sayings and anecdotes in the 
lecture, furnishing abundant material for laughter 
and enjoyment, and also many good, sober, useful 
remarks and observations. Among the latter were two points 
worthy of special emphasis, since they may be justly consid- 
ered as lying at the foundation of this subject, and also at the 
foundation of the imperial highway to fortune in business life. 
The two most important things for a young man just starting 
out in life to determine, said the lecturer, are vocation and 
location, or what shall he turn his hand to, and where shall he 
settle? This chapter will be devoted to the consideration of 
the first of these topics, and the following one to the second. 




SUCCESS IN" BUSINESS LIFE. 35 

Concerning the calling or occupation which a young man 
should choose as his life-work, we urge fir.it that the question 
should engage his most serious thought and earnest study be- 
fore coming to any decision. A mistake here may prove fatal 
through life, and no man can afford to throw away his time 
and energies recklessly. At the very best we have only one 
life to live on earth, and that one is not very long at the long- 
est. There is many a man who has made perfect shipwreck of 
himself and his prospects, by rushing hastily and ill-ad visedly 
into some business or profession for which he was in no wise 
adapted, and then not finding out his mistake until so many 
years of his life had passed away in experimenting, that it be- 
came too late to change callings to advantage. A man's only 
alternative in such a case is to continue on as he begun and 
make the best of his choice, or throw up his calling and try 
a^ain with the feeling that he starts in his new T line of work 
ten or fifteen years behind others in his class. Either horn of 
this dilemma will be sure to gore the mind and feelings of the 
one choosing it, and leave behind a perpetually sore spot in 
his memory and consciousness. Therefore we repeat the re- 
mark, that this question should be well considered by all con- 
cerned, by young men, their parents and friends, before any 
decision is made. 

The primal inquiry must so look in the direction of the 
person's capacities and inclination as to discover, if possible, 
for what he is best adapted. Says Sidney Smith, the famous 
English critic and wit, u Be what nature intended you for and 
you will succeed; but be anything else, and you will be ten 
thousand times worse than nothing." And still earlier than 
Sidney Smith, good old Roger Ascham,who was the preceptor 
of Queen Elizabeth, and one of the first writers on education 
in the English language (living about 1540) said upon this 
subject, " The ignorance in men who know not for what time 
and to what thing they be fit, causeth some to wish themselves 
rich for whom it were better a great deal to be poor; some to 
desire to be in the court, which be born and be fitter rather 
for the cart; some to be masters and rule others, who never 



36 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

jet began to rule themselves; some to teach, which rather 
should learn; some to be priests, which were titter to be 
clerks." 

Again, Dr. Mathews has well observed that " to no other 
cause, perhaps, is failure in life so frequently to be traced as 
to a mistaken calling. A youth who might become a first- rate- 
mechanic chances to have been born of ambitious parents, 
who think it more honorable for their son to handle the lancet 
than the chisel, and so would make him a doctor. According- 
ly he is sent to college, pitchforked through a course of Latin 
and Greek, attends lectures, crams for an examination, gets a 
diploma, and, with ' all his blushing honors thick upon his 
vacant head,' settles down to pour, as Voltaire said, drugs of 
which he knows little into bodies of which he knows less, — 
till his incapacity is discovered, when he starves. In another 
case, a boy is forced by unwise parents to measure tape and 
calico, when nature shows by his intellectual acumen, — by his. 
skill in hair splitting, his adroitness at parry and thrust, his 
fertility of resources in every exigency, and a score of other 
signs, — that she designed him for the bar or the forum. "" 

Many a man has gone into business possessing no busi- 
ness brains. But as no sensible father would try to make a 
musician of his son unless he had a natural ear for music, so 
no sensible father would put his son into business unless he dis- 
covered in him some natural aptness for trade. Again, the idea 
that no man can be really respectable or honorable among 
men without going into one of the three learned professions^ 
as they are called, namely, Law, Medicine and Divinity, is one 
of the most false, mischievous notions which ever obtained a 
lodgment in the popular mind. This idea " has spoiled many 
a good carpenter, done injustice to the sledge and the anvil, 
cheated the goose and the shears out of their rights, and com- 
mitted fraud on the corn and the potato field. Thousands 
have died of broken hearts in these professions, — thousands 
who might have been happy at the plough, or opulent behind 
the counter; thousands, dispirited and hopeless, look upon the 
healthful and independent calling of the farmer with envy 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 37 

chagrin; and thousands more, by a worse fate still, are reduced 
to necessities which degrade them in their own estimation, and 
render the most brilliant success, but a wretched compensation 
for the humiliation with which it is accompanied." 

To illustrate the truthfulness of the foregoing observations, 
the writer remembers the case of a boy whom he knew in early 
youth. The lad was born and reared in a sparsely-settled and 
rather out-of-the-way corner of a New England town. His 
parents were poor but sensible farming people, working hard 
to bring up a somewhat numerous family on a naturally rocky 
and somewhat sterile piece of land. The boy was a bright, 
active lad, easy to learn and with a very retentive memory. 
His advantages for learning, however, were nothing more than 
ordinary, and up to early manhood he had attended nothing 
higher than the common district school. But as he began 
to read and expand mentally, he tired of his lowly and humble 
surroundings, and panted for distinction and greatness in a 
larger sphere of life. 

It was common in that part of the world and at that time, 
for the minister of the parish church to be looked upon as the 
highest in rank and ability of all the surrounding population. 
Moreover, the boy's mother was the daughter of a widely- 
known and justly-revered minister, whose visits to the boy's 
home, taken in connection with the general sentiment of the 
place and time, naturally turned his thoughts toward the 
ministerial calling. His mother, too, was very anxious 
that one of her sons should imitate her father's example, and 
follow in the same path of usefulness and honor. This little 
boy, whom we will call Jerry, had been selected by her al- 
most from his birth as the one to be thus consecrated to the 
Lord. So, when at the age of eighteen, Jerry was converted, 
joined the parish church and began to exhort in the evening 
meetings, his own thoughts, as well as those of his mother and 
the parish priest, at once recurred to this pre-determined 
choice of a profession. The duty of entering the ministry was 
urged upon him with a force which he found very difficult to 
resist, accompanied, as it was, by a mother's appeals and pray- 



38 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

ere, and a minister's solemn adjurations. Still Jerry hesitated;, 
he did not really want to be a minister. In fact he had 
marked out in his own mind a career of a different sort. 

From boyhood he had always loved composition, and to be 
able to write an article for a paper or a magazine was at that 
time the acme of his ambition. "While working on the farm, 
with his father, he went into the neighboring woods, set 
snares for wild game, sold it when caught, took the. money and 
bought paper, pens and ink, built himself a rude, unplaned, 
and unpainted pine table in the old attic, and there went to 
work to write articles for the weekly paper which came regu- 
larly to his home. The first three articles sent were rejected, 
but the fourth one, much changed by the editor, was publish- 
ed. The joy of Jerry's heart on seeing his own composition 
in print, along with others from higher and more gifted 
minds, was greater than can well be described here. He in- 
wardly resolved then and there that he would be an author it 
it was a possible thing, and to that project his whole heart was 
given. Still, urged on by his mother and the parish minister, 
whose exhortations and warnings were half reinforced by 
the misgivings and fears of his own mind, should he dare to 
refuse, he gave his consent to enter upon the sacred work, and 
posted off to school to prepare himself for it. 

Years rolled by and the close of them found Jerry still halt 
ing between two opinions; endeavoring outwardly to conform 
to the requirements of his chosen profession, and wishing 
inwardly that he could follow out the bent of his nature. 
The struggle went on between these forces up to the day of 
his formal entrance upon his work; yea, more than this, 
went right on after that event just the same as before. And 
so Jerry lived and worked twelve years in a divided state of 
mind. Did he succeed in his profession? It is almost super- 
fluous to inquire. By the strictest attention to his work, 
buoyed up by the hope of being able to rise in his profession 
after a while, he passed among others of his class as a man 
who had ability enough to succeed, but whose heart was not 
in sympathy with the duties and sacrifices of his calling. The 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 39 

best thing about Jerry's ministerial life was his sermons. 
While writing these in his study alone, he could easily imag- 
ine himself composing moral treatises or writing articles for 
some religious periodical, and so was able to enter into their 
construction with enthusiasm and delight. Neither did he 
object to the public delivery of his discourses, but the rest of 
his work was performed more or less professionally and reluc- 
tantly. 

Finally, after these twelve years of varying experience, Jer- 
ry resolved to live such a divided life no longer. It cost him 
a terrible struggle to come to this conclusion, but he found the 
old, inward love of his heart daily growing stronger, and the 
outward professional service daily becoming correspondingly 
feeble and unsatisfactory; and so there was no other alterna- 
tive. ' But the next question was what should he do, after the 
change was made? He realized he was throwing away the 
results of all his years of preparation and experience. He 
had reached the age of 40 and was pretty old to commence a 
new manner of life. His habits of thought and feeling by 
this time had become somewhat fixed. And now it would be 
necessary for him to break these all up, and commence anew. 
He also found it very much harder than he had expected to 
adapt himself to his new service and its conditions. The tran- 
sition trial and struggle was fearful. For a time it seemed 
doubtful whether Jerry would go on to fame and fortune, or 
" go to the clogs" in despair. Bat, like the traveler in the 
fable, as the storm increased he drew his cloak of resolution 
more tightly about him and pressed on towards the distant 
goal. By and by the clouds began to break a little and the 
sun of prosperity came out on Jerry's lonely pathway. He 
had forded the stream running between the two vocations of 
life in which he had tried to walk, but he came within a step 
of being drowned in the passage. 

Jerry still lives and is working away bravely to realize his 
early hope and dream, but he feels that he will always be a 
crippled man to what he might have been, had he been allowed 
to follow the bent of his nature from the beginning. Hence 



40 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

we now urge upon parents the folly of trying to make chil- 
dren over into something for which they were never fitted by 
birth, endowments, or early training. Better far allow them 
to choose their own calling in life, after giving the matter 
proper attention and thought, than try to coerce them into 
vocations which they naturally and instinctively shun. 

It often happens that this bent or leaning of a child's nature 
towards a certain calling or vocation, displays itself quite early 
in life. Thus Handel, the great musical composer, when a 
little boy, secretly bought a musical instrument, called a clav- 
ichord, hid it away in the attic, and at midnight used to go 
up there and play on it. The strings of the instrument were 
muffled with small bits of fine woolen cloth so that the softened 
sounds should not wake the sleeping inmates of the house. 
Another equally famous composer, Bach, used to copy whole 
books by moonlight when a candle had been meanly denied 
him. Benjamin West, the famous painter, began his career 
when a boy in the garret of his home, and made his brushes 
out of the long hairs of the old family cat. Michael Angelo, 
the Italian architect and painter, neglected school to copy 
drawings which he dared not bring home. Murillo, a Spanish 
artist, filled the margin of his school-book with drawings. 
Dryden, an English poet, read Polybius before he was ten 
years old. Le Brun, in childhood, drew with a piece of char- 
coal on the walls of the house. Alexander Pope wrote excel- 
lent verses at fourteen. Blaise Pascal, the celebrated French 
mathematician, composed at sixteen a tract on the Conic Sec- 
tions. Lawrence painted beautifully when a mere boy. 
Madame de Stael was deep in the philosophy of politics at an 
age when other girls were dressing dolls. Lord Nelson had 
made up his mind to be a hero before he was old enough to be 
a midshipman ; and Napoleon was already at the head of armies 
when pelting his comrades with snow-balls at the military 
school of Brienne. 

Richard Wilson when a mere child indulged himself with 
tracing figures of men and animals on the walls of his father's 
house with a burnt stick. He first directed his attention to 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 41 

portrait-painting, but when in Italy, calling one day at the 
house of Zucarelli and growing weary with waiting, he began 
painting the scene on which his friend's chamber-window 
looked. When Zucarelli arrived, he was so charmed with the 
picture that he asked if Wilson had not studied landscape, to 
which he replied that he had not. " Then, I advise you," said 
the other, "to try; for you are sure of great success." Wil- 
son adopted the advice, studied and worked hard, and became 
& great English landscape-painter. Sir Joshua Reynolds, 
when a boy, forgot his lessons, and took pleasure only in draw- 
ing, for which his father was accustomed to rebuke him. The 
boy was destined for the profession of physic, but his strong 
instinct for art could not be repressed, and he became a painter. 
Gainsborough went sketching, when a school-boy, in the woods 
of Sudbury, and at twelve he v/as a confirmed artist; he was a 
keen observer and a hard worker, — no picturesque feature of 
any scene he had once looked upon, escaping his diligent pen- 
cil. William Blake, a hosier's son, employed himself in draw- 
ing des'gns on the backs of his father's shopbills and making 
sketches on the counter. Edward Bird, when a child only 
three or four years old, would mount a chair and draw figures 
on the walls, which he called French and English soldiers. A 
box of colors was purchased for him, and his father, desirous 
of turning his love of art to account, put him apprentice to 
& maker of tea-trays! Out of this trade he gradually raised 
himself by study and labor, to the rank of a Royal Acade- 
mician. 

Hogarth, though a very dull boy at his lessons, took pleas- 
ure in making drawings of the letters of the alphabet, and his 
school exercises were more remarkable for the ornaments with 
which he embellished them, than for the matter of the exercises 
themselves. Mill ready when a boy went to the house of the 
sculptor Banks, but the servant, angry at the loud knock he 
had given, scolded him, and was about sending him away, 
when Banks overhearing her, himself went out. The little 
boy stood at the door with some drawings in his hand. " What 
do you want with me?" asked the sculptor. "I want, sir, if 



42 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

you please, to be admitted to draw at the Academy." Banks 
explained that he himself conld not procure his admission, 
but he asked to look at the boy's drawings. Examining them, 
he said, "Time enough for the Academy, my little man! go 
home, — mind your schooling, — try to make a better drawing 
of the* Apollo, — and in a month come again and let me see 
it." The boy went home, — sketched and worked with re- 
doubled diligence, — and, at the end of the month, called again 
on the sculptor. The drawing was better, but again Banks 
sent him back, with good advice, to work and study. In a 
week the boy was again at his door with drawing much im- 
proved. Banks now bid him be of good cheer, for if he con- 
tinued to improve thus, he would be sure to distinguish himself; 
which prophecy was afterward amply fulfilled. 

Faraday, the noted scientist, made his first electrical machine 
out of a bottle, while Lord Bacon, at the age of sixteen, had 
successfully pointed out the errors of Aristotle's philosophy. 
John Smeaton, the builder of the Eddystone lighthouse, on the 
English coast, when in petticoats was discovered on the top of 
his father's barn fixing up the model of a windmill which he 
had constructed. M. Carnot who, during the Napoleonic wars, 
could direct the movements of fourteen armies at one and the 
same time, went to a theater when a boy, and seeing some poor 
military tactics on the stage, instinctively cried out his disap- 
probation at the players. 

Sometimes little circumstances wake up the right idea in a 
boy or man. Thus George Law, the steamboat king and mil- 
lionaire, found in an old, stray volume the story of a farmer's 
son who went away to seek his fortune, and came home rich; 
whereupon George himself set out and beat the achievements 
of the boy in the story all out of sight. It is said of the great 
philanthropist, Thomas Clarkson, that when he was a compet- 
itor for the prize essay at Cambridge, he had never thought 
upon the subject to be handled, which was, "May one man 
lawfully enslave another?" Chancing one. day to pick up in 
a friend's house a newspaper, advertising a History of Guinea, 
he hastened to London, bought the work, and there found a 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 43 

picture of cruelties that tilled his soul with horror. " Coming- 
one day in sight of Wade's mill in Hertfordshire," he says, 
"I sat down disconsolate on the turf by the roadside, and held 
my horse. Here a thought came into my mind, that, if the 
contents of this essay were true, it was time that some person 
should see those calamities to their endP 

Sometimes also a youth is put at one calling and fails, and 
then tries another and succeeds. But this must always be 
done in early life. To change vocations after many years have 
gone by, is more or less dangerous, as has been shown. It is 
said that the father of John Adams the second President of 
the United States tried to make a shoemaker of his son, and 
accordingly gave him one day some uppers to cut out by a 
pattern that had a three-cornered hole in it, by which it had 
hung upon a nail. John went to work and followed the pat- 
tern exactly, three-cornered hole and all! In Macmillan's 
Magazine there is an incident of a similar nature. A young 
man, whose bluntness was such that every effort to turn him 
to account in a linen-drapery establishment was found unavail- 
ing, received from his employer the customary note that he 
would not suit, and must go. "But I'm good for something," 
said the poor fellow, unwilling to be turned out into the street. 
"You are good for nothing as a salesman," said the principal, 
regarding him from his selfish point of view. "I am sure I 
can be useful," repeated the 3 7 oung man. "How? tell me 
how." "I don't know, sir; I don't know." "Nor do I." 
And the principal laughed as he saw the eagerness of the lad 
displayed. " Only don't put me away, sir; don't put me away. 
Trv me at something besides selling. I cannot sell, I know I 
cannot sell." "I know that, too; that is what is wrong." 
"But I can make myself useful somehow; I know I can." The 
blunt boy, who could not be turned into a salesman, and whose 
manner was so little captivating that he was nearly sent about 
his business, was accordingly tried at something else. He was 
placed in the counting-house, where his aptitude for figures 
soon showed itself, and in a few years he became not only chief 
cashier in the concern, but eminent as an accountant through- 
out the country. 



4! THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

The only remaining point in this connection to be considered 
is this: after choosing a vocation in life deliberately and 
thoughtfully, it will be better, as a general rule, to stick to it 
than to change. Each man will have to determine for himself 
whether his case furnishes an exception to the rule. If it does, 
then it will be best to change; but he ought to be sure he is 
right, before he goes ahead. A late writer on this point has 
forcibly said: "In hours of despondency, or when smarting 
under some disappointment, a young man is apt to fancy that 
in some other calling he would have been more successful. It 
is so easy, while regarding it at a distance, to look at its bright 
side only, shutting the eyes at what is ugly and disagreeable, 
— it is so easy to dream of the resolution and tenacity of pur- 
pose with which he would follow it, and to mount up in imag- 
ination to its most dazzling honors, and clutch them in defiance 
of every rival, — that it is not strange that men abandon their 
professions for others for which they are less fitted. But when 
we reflect that the man remains the same, whatever his calling, 
— that a mere change of his position can make no radical 
change of his mind, either by adding to its strength or dimin- 
ishing its weakness, — we shall conclude that in many cases 
what he is in one calling, that he would be, substantially, in 
any other, and that he will gain nothing by the exchange." 
It makes little difference what vocation a man follows, if 
honorable and legitimate, so far as his success is concerned, 
if he really likes it and finds himself adapted to it. All call- 
ings are alike honorable, if pursued with an honorable spirit; 
it is the heart only which degrades, the intention carried into 
the work, and not the work itself. The most despised calling 
may be made honorable by the honor of its professors; a black- 
smith may be a man of polished manners, and a millionaire 
a clown ; a shoemaker may put genius and taste into his work, 
while a lawyer may only cobble. Better be a first-class boot- 
black, than a miserable, starving lawyer or doctor. The day 
has long gone by when a man needed to hang down his head 
because of the humbleness of his vocation, if it is useful. 
Lord Townsend, who introduced the culture of the turnip into 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 45 

England, was nicknamed "Turnip Townsend" by the wits of 
a licentious court; but there are few persons to-day who would 
not admit that he did more for his country thereby than was 
done by all the popinjays that have spread their butterfly 
wings in the sunshine of the British court from the days of 
Charles II. to those of Yictoria. 

THE WOMAN QUESTION. 

For contemplation lie and valor formed, 
For softness she and sweet, attractive grace; 
He for God only, she for God and him. 

Milton. 

Although the observations made in the preceding pages 
with regard to the right vocation, apply with equal force to all 
young persons who expect to work for a living, yet the im- 
portance attached to what is called th^ "Woman Question," 
justifies us in adding a page or two of remarks addressed 
directly to the classes designated. It need hardly be said at the 
outset that women are always (or most always) objects of in- 
terest not alone to single men, but to all men who have any 
regard for the future welfare of the nation. They are to be 
the wives and mothers of the generations which will succeed 
each other on life's stage as the years and ages roll by. It is^ 
a well-known fact, however, that at present in this country 
the proportion of the population is not equally divided be- 
tween the sexes. There is a large surplus of women, take the 
country through. In some of the states, Massachusetts for 
example, the women outnumber the men by 70,000 or more.. 
In other states there is a numerical superiority, though not as 
large as in the old " Bay State." It follows, therefore, that 
large numbers of women will be compelled to remain single,, 
and compelled to work for their daily subsistence, in competi- 
tion with men. And the question arises, what can they do- 
best; what avenues of employment shall be thrown open to 
them, and what extra rights and privileges, if any, shall be 
granted to them? These three inquiries have awakened in* 
modern times a good deal of thought and discussion. 



46 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

We lay it down as an axiom that the true, regular, normal 
position and work of women in the world lies in the home 
circle. God made them to be wives and mothers. If lie had 
not intended them for this sphere, he would have made them 
men, instead of women. Sex in children is no more the*result 
of accident, than any other fact in the world which is con- 
trolled by hidden law. No woman therefore should scout, or 
treat lightly, the subject of marriage. When a woman is prop- 
erly mated in life, the three questions asked above, are at once 
happily answered. The home sphere then becomes her field 
of labor, the duties of wifehood and motherhood furnish her 
with appropriate employment, and her rights and privileges 
are immediately assured her in connection with those of her 
husband. We are aware that some women who like to be 
considered as particularly "strong-minded," affect to deny 
this assertion in regard to the true design and destiny of wo- 
men, and claim that most women are better off not to marry. 
We purpose to hold no argument with such. They have be- 
come wise above what is written and claim to know better how 
this world should be regulated and governed than God him- 
self. Their " strong" (?) minds are really so shallow and full of 
blinding self-conceit that they only excite the contempt and 
ridicule of all decent and sensible people. Let them prate and 
scold away to their heart's content — they will never succeed in 
changing the immutable laws of human nature, if they talk 
until doomsday. So long as young men and young women 
are allowed to act out the instincts and feelings of their na- 
tures, they will always love and marry each other. And this is 
right, because God intended it to be so when he created the 
world. No true woman can or will despise a proper marriage. 
If she does refuse such offers from foolish or insufficient rea- 
sons, and afterward suffers, for her thoughtless and frivolous 
conduct, no person will pity her, and she will be compelled to 
take care of herself as best she can. 

In regard to those who from any cause or causes are com- 
pelled to live a single life and support themselves, there are 
some avenues of employment open to them for honorable com- 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 47 

petition with men. There are many kinds of manufacturing 
labor which women can perform as well as men, if not better. 
They can weave cloth and tend looms in cotton mills; they 
can always do housework and find plenty of it to do; they can 
teach, although this profession is usually overcrowded like all 
others; they can become clerks in some departments of trade; 
or they can carry on a few kinds of business alone. But it is 
practically useless for them to try and compete with men in 
regular professional life. They can never make much prog- 
ress as lawyers, doctors, ministers, or politicians. The profes- 
sion of medicine is more congenial to their nature and capacities 
than either of the others mentioned, but in this they necessa- 
rily work at a great disadvantage. They can hardly expect to 
be called upon for professional services outside of their own 
sex, and even many women prefer a man -physician to a lady, 
for the simple reason that they have more confidence in their 
ability and judgment. As nurses, however, women will al- 
ways excel, being peculiarly adapted for that difficult and 
delicate work. There are also some kinds of editorial and 
literary work which women perform well, although this requires 
a high order of intellectual power and literary taste. But as 
a rule, taking all things into consideration, women cannot hope 
to succeed in business life, as well as men. They have not 
sufficient physical strength to sustain them in equally arduous 
labor. They have not, as a general thing, equal business ca- 
pacity and tact. Their sex is against them, except in those 
departments of business specially set apart for women, in 
which, as already remarked, they do better than men. But 
in business life generally, they work at a greater or less dis- 
advantage, because they were primarily intended for another 
and a different sphere. 

Young women desiring to get an education, have every 
facility in this country which they could well ask for. Not 
only do female colleges and special schools abound, but they 
are now privileged to enter many colleges of a regular grade, 
and can take their places side by side with young men in ac- 
quiring knowledge. It will always be a question, however? 



48 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

whether women need just the kind of education which they 
receive in these masculine colleges, and whether a course of 
study more adapted to their natures, would not serve them a 
better purpose and be more lastingly beneficial to them in 
their struggle for life. 

Concerning the right of women to the ballot, there is such 
a great diversity of sentiment, and there are so many good 
people to be found on either side of the question, that we dare 
not venture to decide this matter for others, but will present 
the strongest arguments we can find both for and against, and 
leave each reader to take that side which pleases him or her 
most. The chief speaker on the affirmative side of the question 
shall be Mr. Henry B. Blackweil, one of the editors of u The 
Woman's Journal," published in Boston, Mass., and the offi- 
cial organ of the National Woman's Suffrage Association. 
His speech, which follows, in favor of the Suffrage movement 
was delivered at the State House in Boston, Jan. 29th, 1878, 
before a committee of the Mass. Legislature. Mr. Blackweil 
said : In behalf of the thousands of petitioners who are already 
before you, and of thousands more who, day by day, are send- 
ing in similar petitions, I desire to state, 1st, What we ask; 
2nd, Why we ask it. 

We ask for three things. 

1. For a change in the law which regulates elections for 
town, city and county officers, removing the restriction of sex,. 
so that, hereafter, women may be enabled to vote in such elec- 
tions on the same terms as men. 

2. For a change in the law which regulates Presidential elec- 
tions, removing the restriction of sex, so that hereafter women 
may be enabled to vote for electors of President and Vice- 
President of the United States. 

3. For a Joint Resolve for a Constitutional Amendment 
abolishing all political distinctions on account of sex. 

To take the first and second steps, no change in the Consti- 
tution is needed, but only a majority of the Senate and House 
of Representatives, with the assent of the Governor. 

To change the Constitution requires the action of two sue- 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 49 

cessive Legislatures, ratified afterwards by a majority of the 
qualified voters. 

So much for what we ask; now why do we ask it? 

First, because the fundamental principle of American Gov- 
ernment affirms, that all mankind are endowed by nature, 
with certain inalienable rights of life, liberty and the pursuit 
of happiness, and that to secure these rights, governments are 
instituted deriving their just powers from the consent of the 
governed. Every one will admit that a women has the same 
right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness as a man; 
that to secure these rights government exists; that she is gov- 
erned; why then should she be forbidden to consent or dissent 
like other citizens? What is Suffrage? The authoritative 
expression of an opinion. What is its essence ? Rational 
choice.' Are rational choice and its expression a masculine 
function? Are they a feminine function? No; they are a 
human function. We ask that women may vote, for the same 
reason that they vote already as stockholders in a railroad 
company or in a manufacturing corporation. They are equal 
stockholders, as citizens, in the great political corporation 
called Government, and it is unjust to deprive them of their 
equal expression, since they are equally interested in its safety 
and prosperity. 

The principles of our State Constitution affirm that "all 
power resides in the people and is derived from them." 
Women are people. 

"The people . . have a right to institute government 
and to reform, alter or change the same." They can do so only 
by voting. 

"No part of the property of any individual can with justice 
ever be taken from him and applied to the public use without 
his own consent or that of the representative body of the peo- 
ple." Is not a woman an individual? 

Again, we ask Suffrage for women, because the qualities 
which specially characterize women are the very ones in which 
our government is deficient. Women excel men in gentle- 
ness, temperance, chastity, economy and respect for law. 
4 



50 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

They are and will be the wives and mothers of men. Woman 
suffrage therefore means the representation of the Home; the 
domestic interests directly expressed by women, just as the 
business interests are directly expressed by men. Instead of 
an aristocracy of sex, which is class legislation, we want human 
nature manifested in a truly representative government of men 
and women. 

It is said that women do not want it. Yet two thirds of 
the petitioners who annually come before you are women. 
In order to ascertain the real opinions of any class of men, 
you do not count numbers, you take the expression of the 
representative leaders. Try the women by this test. Look at 
the splendid lists of names attached to the Boston petitions 
headed by Mrs. Sarah Shaw Russell and others. Almost all 
the women of our state who are eminent in public work, in 
art, literature, charities and reforms, are Suffragists. L. Maria 
Child, Abby Kelry Foster, Angelina Grimke Weld, Louisa 
Alcott, Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, Harriet Prescott Spofford, 
Julia Ward Howe, Mary A. Livermore, Maria Mitchell, Abby 
W. May, Lucia Peabody — I might multiply the list indefinitely 
— are Suffragists. Almost all our school-teachers are women, 
and seven-eights of these are Suffragists. All women physi- 
cians, so far as I know, without an exception, are Suffragists. 

We do not care what qualifications for Suffrage you impose, 
so only they apply alike to all. Charles Sumner used to say 
that though Suffrage must be regulated, no qualification in- 
surmountable in its character can be justly imposed. You 
may require mental maturity, permanent residence, ability to 
read and write, the payment of a tax ; these can be attained by 
all. But when you say a negro must not vote, and use the 
word "white;" or when you say a woman must not vote, and 
use the word "male," you establish a qualification which no 
amount of effort can overcome, and which is therefore arbitrary 
and unjust. 

At the same time and place, in addition to the above. Miss 
Anna C. Garlin said: Let me ask the Committee to consider 
three important facts. The first relates to the Public Schools. 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 51 

Counting out the High and Normal Schools and the Colleges, 
nine-tenths of the public instructors are women. Therefore, 
as the great majority of children graduate from our free 
schools before reaching the higher institutions, the public 
education of American citizens is practically in the hands of 
women. 

The second part relates to the homes. In no country in 
the world do women have such a controlling influence in fam- 
ily government as in America. The absorption of American 
men in business, professions, or public affairs, lays a great and 
responsible burden of authority in the home, on the mother. 
Hence, in America, not only the public but the private home- 
education of our youth is largely in the hands of women. 

The. third fact relates to our political condition. A cry 
rings from Maine to California that our political' machinery is 
in the hands of inferior or corrupt men, that the intelligence 
-and virtue which should control governmental affairs are 
indifferent to them and neglectful of the highest duties of citi- 
zenship. 

Have these facts no connection with each other? "Whatever 
you want in the State, you must put into the Public Schools," 
says a great Prussian educator. And we would add, " What- 
ever you want in the schools must be put into the character of 
the teachers." The schools supported by the State must teach 
an active patriotism, if a people's government is to be a success. 

Among the causes of the decline and fall of the Roman 
empire, historians mention the decay of public spirit among 
the ruling classes of Rome growing out of the general em- 
ployment of Greeks as teachers in the patrician families. 
These men, superior to the Romans in art and science and lit- 
erature, were politically subjects, not citizens. Having no 
interest in or knowledge of public affairs, they failed to instil 
such interest or knowledge into the minds of their pupils; and 
thus the young patricians became unfitted for the responsibil- 
ities of their position. Is there not a similar danger in our 
own country, if women, the teachers of your children, are ex- 
cluded from political interests and responsibilities? No class, 



52 TUE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

counted outside of government, reckoned as political ciphers, 
can teach active patriotism. Therefore, our claim for the bal- 
lot for woman is no narrow though noble one of rights alone, 
but it rests on the broad ground of public safety. Somehow, 
we must bring to bear upon political affairs the vital educa- 
tional forces of the home and school, if we w r ould secure those 
reforms in governments which all thoughtful men are urging. 
These educational forces are largely directed by women. The 
need, therefore, is imperative, that women be placed in a posi- 
tion of political responsibility, that the natural teachers of the 
race may educate American citizens in political honor and 
devotion. 

What is suffrage? The authoritative expression of an opin- 
ion ; rational choice in reference to principles, measures and men. 
Are women capable of forming an opinion? Have they the 
capacity of rational choice? Have they interests to be affected 
bj< legislation; rights to protect; wrongs to remedy? If so,. 
women ought to vote as citizens, just as they now vote as 
stockholders in the Bank of England and in railroad or manu- 
facturing corporations. 

So much for the affirmative side of this question. The 
reader shall now listen to the other side, as stated by Dr. 
J. G. Holland, poet, author, and editor of Scribner's Monthly y 
who asks: "Firsts is it right that women should have an 
equal or a determining voice in the enactment of laws which 
they do not propose to execute, or assist in executing, which 
they could not execute if they would, and which they expect 
men to execute for them? 

Second, supposing that women would give us better laws 
than we have (which is not evident), what would be the prac- 
tical advantage to them or to us, so long as they must rely 
upon us to execute them — upon us who find it impossible to 
enforce our own laws, some of the best of which are the out- 
growth of the pure influence of women in home and social life? 

Third, is it right — is it kind and courteous to men — for 
women to demand an equal or a determining voice in the es- 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 53 

tablishment of a national policy which they do not propose to 
defend, which they do not propose to assist in defending, which 
they could not defend if they would, and which they expect 
men to defend for them? 

It has been said that women pay taxes on large amounts of 
property, and that if they be denied the right of the ballot, 
there is taxation without representation. But who earned the 
money now in the hands of women and on which they pay 
taxes? Did they earn it themselves, by their own labor, or was 
it bequeathed to them by men who earned it and then gave it 
to them? If women are, or ever have been, taxed as women 
(which they are not, and never have been); if they produced 
this wealth, or won it by legitimate trade (which they did not); 
if nine-tenths of the wealth of the State were not in the hands 
of business men whose pursuits have specially fitted them to 
be the guardians of the wealth of the State; if the counsels of 
these tax-paying women could add wisdom to the wisdom of 
these men; if there were any complaint of inadequate protec- 
tion to this property on account of its being in the hands of 
women — if all or any one of these suppositions were based in 
truth — then some sort of plea could be set up for giving the bal- 
lot to women on account of their holding property. As the facts 
are, we confess our inability to find in it any comfort or support 
for those who seek for the revolution under consideration. On 
the contrary, we find that the ballot as it stands to-day, with its 
privileges, responsibilities, and limitations, secures to woman 
complete protection in the enjoyment of revenues which are 
proved to be immense, all drawn from land and sea b}^ the 
hands of men whose largess testifies alike of their love and 
their munificence." 

The right vocation for women, then, summed up in the order 
of preference, is as follows: First and foremost, that of wife 
and mother in the home circle; next, housekeeping, nursing, 
etc.; third, those branches of trade for which they are best 
adapted, avoiding as much as possible damaging competition 
with men; fourth, professional life, teaching, writing, etc.; 
lastly, clerkships, manufacturing, and like pursuits. 



54: THE IMPEEIAL HIGHWAY. 




CHAPTEE IT. 

The Eight Location. 

God made the country, and man made the town. 
What wonder then that health and virtue, gifts 
That can alone make sweet the bitter draught 
That Life holds out to all, should most abound 
And least be threatened in the fields and groves? 

Cowper. 

r this chapter we purpose to speak of the comparative 
Lerits and advantages of city and country as places for 
•settlement in life. It has been a matter of common obser- 
vation with those who study tendencies* and movements in 
American society, that there is, on the part of young men in the 
country quite generally, an eager, restless desire to get away 
from farm life and go to a city. They dislike the drudgery, the 
steady, hard work of the farm, and think it would be much 
better and nicer if they could stand behind a counter in some 
dry-goods store, or work in an office, or even drive a city team. 
They would then be "among folks," they think, and would 
be able to see for themselves " what was going on." The 
glare and glitter, the noise and bustle, the activity and com- 
motion, the apparent splendor and gayety of a city life, they 
think, would just suit them, and would be so different from 
the solitude and lonesomeness of the farm and the farm home. 
Says Dr. J. G-. Holland, writing upon this subject: "We 
see young men pushing everywhere into trade, into mechan- 
ical pursuits, into the learned professions, into insignificant 
clerkships, into salaried positions of every sort that will take 
them into towns and support and hold them there. We find 
it impossible to drive poor people from the cities with the 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 55 

threat of starvation, or to coax them with the promise of bet- 
ter pay and cheaper fare. There they stay, and starve, and 
sicken, and sink. Young women resort to the shops and the 
factories rather than take service in farmers' houses, where 
they are received as members of the family; and when they 
marry, they seek an alliance, when practicable, with mechan- 
ics and tradesmen who live in villages and large towns. The 
daughters of the farmer fly the farm at the first opportunity. 
The towns grow larger all the time, and, in !New England, at 
least, the farms are becoming wider and longer, and the farm- 
ing population are diminished in numbers, and, in some local- 
ities, degraded in quality and character." 

While the last part of this quotation will not apply as for- 
cibly to Western life as to Eastern, yet the remainder of it is 
very appropriate and very true. All cities are generally over- 
crowded. One-fifth of the entire population of this country 
is now in cities. Many of these are men with families, but a 
large proportion of the number are young men and women 
who crowd to the cities from all quarters, looking for a chance 
to change their mode of life. Somehow or other, the social 
life of the village and the city has intense fascination to the 
lonely dwellers on the farm, or to a great multitude of them. 
Especially is this the case with the young. The youth of both 
sexes who have seen nothing of the world have an overwhelm- 
ing desire to meet life and to be among the multitude. "They 
feel their lot to be narrow in its opportunities and its rewards, 
and the pulsation of the great social heart that comes to them 
in rushing trains and passing steamers and daily newspapers, 
damp with the dews of a hundred brows, thrill them with 
longings for the places where the rhythmic throb is felt and 
heard." Still this fascination, we are inclined to think, is akin 
in nature, if not in destructiveness, to the fascination of ga- 
ming-tables for some minds, of drinking-cups for others, and of 
theatrical performances for all. 

We have a few words to say to this class of young people. 
Shakespere wrote more than two hundred years ago, that it 
was " better to endure the ills we already have, than fly to 



5 6 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

others we know not of." And this remark holds good in its 
application to the subject in hand. The teYnptations and se- 
ductiveness of city life, its opportunities for self-destruction 
by gambling, drinking, licentiousness, and a thousand other 
evils, the peculiar isolation and lonesomeness of living and 
moving among people whose names, even, you do not know, 
is not half as pleasant as might appear at first thought. No 
one by looking merely at the outside can begin to tell the 
amount of magnificent misery and gilded poverty which exist 
within city walls. Besides, there is as much drudgery to be 
done in the city, as in the country, and if anything, even 
more. There is also as much hard, steady work. It is a little 
different in kind, to be sure, but then it tires you out just as 
soon, and you feel just as weary at night. In fact, one can 
work to better advantage in the stillness and quietude and 
amidst the unexcitable surroundings of country life, than he 
can with the noise and confusion of passing multitudes around 
him. There will be far less of nerve-exhaustion and consump- 
tion of vital forces at the old home, than in any great city. 
The man who ought to be the happiest of all men, is he who 
has a good farm, free from debt, and under a good state of cul- 
tivation, with a cheerful, loving wife, and a number of healthy, 
bright, dutiful children around him to make music, and assist 
in keeping his homestead. 

More than this, the fact is patent to all that the only really 
prosperous class, as a whole, is the agricultural. The farmer 
is demonstrably better oh 1 ', more independent, fares better, 
lodges better, and gets a better return for his labor, than the 
worker in the city. We often witness the anomaly of thrifty 
farmers and starving tradesmen. The country must be fed, 
and the farmers feed it. The city family may do without new 
clothes, and a thousand luxurious appliances, but it must have 
bread and meat. There is nothing that can prevent the steady 
prosperity of the American farmer but the combinations and 
"corners " of the middle-men that force unnatural conditions 
upon the finances and markets of the country. The gains of the 
husbandman are slow but sure. Speculation is not legitimate 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 57 

farm business. Farm stock cannot be watered like railroad 
stock, and made to expand at pleasure. Those who go into 
farming expecting to make sudden fortunes will be disap- 
pointed. It is a highway to health and competence, but not 
to sudden wealth and luxury. 

Says Alexander Hyde, himself a large and successful farmer 
in Massachusetts: "While we concede that the profits of farm- 
ing are slow and sure, rather than rapid and uncertain, we still 
maintain that no business pays better in the long run for the 
-capital and skill invested. Farmers rarely fail. While 90 
per cent, of those who enter upon a mercantile career become 
bankrupt, it is an anomaly for a farmer to ask his creditors to 
take fifty cents on a dollar. We never hear of farmer princes, 
and .we can not point you to millionaires among husbandmen, 
but we can point you to thousands and tens of thousands 
among the cultivators of the soil who are independent as any 
prince, and live surrounded with the comforts, if not the lux- 
uries of life, all brought from the bountiful earth. The num- 
ber of these might be increased indefinitely, if more intelli- 
gence, and more system generally, attended the labors of the 
husbandman. In this, as in every other pursuit, it is intelli- 
gent labor that commands success. Were a manufacturer to 
conduct his business in the shiftless manner in which manj r 
farmers direct their affairs, he would speedily come to the end 
of his career. 

" Agriculture was not only the primeval occupation of man, 
and the pursuit which the majority of men in all ages have 
followed, but it has been, is, and ever must be the main 
spring of all industry. All are dependent upon it for their 
daily sustenance. ' The king himself is served by the field. 
The profit of the earth is for all. ' The banker and the beg- 
gar, the prince and the peasant, are alike fed from the products 
of the soil. Nothing can supply the place of these products. 
All the gold of California^ and all the Erie railroad stock, 
multiplied indefinitely, cannot keep the soul and body of man 
together. 'No matter what business we pursue, we must, like 
the fabled Antaeus, draw our life afresh everyday from mother 
earth. 



58 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

"Agriculture not only gives life to man and beast, but is the 
foundation of all other business. All trades and manufactures, 
all commerce, in short all business, is the result directly or 
indirectly of agriculture. The thousands of wheels which 
are revolving in the country to-day, whether moved by water 
or steam, are only re-molding the products of the earth into 
some useful form, and the thousands of ships which are trav- 
ersing the oceans and rivers of the world are merely trans- 
porting these products, either in raw or manufactured state, to 
a market. The merchants, whether wholesale or retail, are 
the mediums of exchange for the produce of the soil. The 
millions of money deposited in our banks represent the cap- 
ital accumulated from this produce. Our costly and commo- 
dious public buildings, our beautiful private residences, our 
splendid turn-outs, the adornments of fashion, indeed all the 
representatives of value, — are ultimate results from the 
crops of the earth. A merchant prince once said to us, point- 
ing to his splendid mansion, "Every stone in this house is the 
result of the prairie soil of Illinois.' 5 Were the annual har- 
vests of the earth to cease, the whirling spindles and flying 
shuttles of our manufactories would also cease, our ships would 
rot by the wharves, and our banks would have no demand for 
discounts. When the labors of the husbandman are rewarded 
with bountiful harvests, the spindles multiply, the ships are 
well freighted, and money is current. The resources of a 
country exist mainly in the soil. 

"Moreover, the adaptation of agriculture to all ranks and 
conditions of society is not less wonderful. The king himself, 
without any loss of dignity, can be a farmer. Most of the 
presidents of these United States have been farmers, and have 
retired from their high position to the cultivation of their 
broad acres. We should be sorry to see a president reduced to 
selling lace and broadcloth, but of Washington as a farmer, 
we are almost as proud as of Washington the president. 
Adams on his farm at Quincy, Jefferson on his estate at Mon- 
ticello, Jackson at the Hermitage, were just as dignified as 
when in the presidential chair. Van Buren prided himself as 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 59 

much upon his large patch of cabbages at Kinderhook as upon 
his sharp diplomacy at Washington. Clay, surrounded by 
his short-horns at Ashland, was as much a nobleman as when 
gazed upon with delight by his compeers in the Senate cham- 
ber. The massive intellect of Webster was as conspicuous in 
the guidance of his farm at Marshfield as when he guided the 
affairs of State. 

" Prince and peasant alike feel that in cultivating the soil 
they are fulfilling the mission which the Creator gave to man 
when he placed him in the garden of Eden. The pleasure, 
too, which the cultivator feels in raising his own fruits and 
flowers is very analogous to the pleasure of the Creator when 
he looked upon the works of his hands and pronounced them 
good. We doubt not there is pleasure in the successful pros- 
ecution of any branch of useful industry. The conversion of 
cotton and wool into fabrics for the protection and adornment 
of our persons is a species of creation, a re-molding of raw 
material into forms of beauty and utility, which must give 
the manufacturer great satisfaction; but this does not seem 
so much like a miracle as the creation of new life from inert 
matter; a transformation which the farmer constantly sees 'go- 
ing on around him, and in the conduct of which he has a 
directing agency. In the case of the manufacturer, no new 
life is the result of his skill and labor. Matter is transformed 
and is made useful and beautiful, but cloth, glass and paper 
have no life. 

"Not so with the products of the farm. Here dead, inert 
matter is transformed, not only into a thing of beauty and 
utility, but becomes also a thing of life. An apple lives and 
grows, and this vegetable life is destined to enter into the 
composition of a still higher organization in animal life. 
How the vile, offensive matter in the compost heap is con- 
verted into the luscious and fragrant peach, is beyond the 
power of human ken to discern. It is a living, perpetual 
miracle, attesting the wisdom and power of the great Creator; 
but the farmer acts an important part in the transformation. 
He prepares the compost, determines whether it shall fertilize 



60 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

a melon or a cabbage, sows the seed, and cultivates the plant, 
and so is a co-worker with the First Great Cause, and shares 
with him the pleasure of creation, as the worker in no other 
branch of industry can. 

" Many a professional man, with his head aching with the 
perplexities of his business, sighs for the quiet, simple pleas- 
ures of farm life, and many a merchant constantly on the qui 
vive to outstrip his competitors in trade, and fearing commer- 
cial revulsions which may strip him of the results of a life of 
toil and enterprise, longs for a home in the country, where he 
may spend quietly the evening of his days. A professional 
man with a brilliant genius, fitting him 'to govern men and 
guide the State,' and shine in the most polished society, re- 
cently said to us, 'Can I manage a few acres of land? I long 
to be the owner of some land and a tiller of the soil.' An 
extensive manufacturer, who in former years expatiated on 
the pleasure he derived from the music of his water-wheels, 
and the satisfaction he found in guiding the labors of a mul- 
titude of men, and seeing the town prosperous from the stim- 
ulus which he gave to business generally, has lately turned 
his attention to agriculture, and confesses that he finds in his 
new pursuit an enjoyment he never experienced before. Liv- 
ing in the open air, and exercising his muscles more vigorously 
and his brains more gently, dyspepsia, which formerly tor- 
mented him, has disappeared. He finds the sleep of a laboring 
man sweet, whether he eats little or much. In draining his 
swamps and creating fertile land from a worthless bog; in 
tending his herds and studying and developing the good points 
of his animals; in planting his vines and fruit trees, he says 
4 he finds a pleasure which the old mill never gave.' " 

HISTORY OF AGRICULTURE. 

It may not be amiss at this point to compile for the reader 
a very brief and condensed history of agriculture. As has 
been already observed, tilling the soil was. man's primeval oc- 
cupation. Adam was the first farmer. God put him into the 
garden of Eden "to dress and to keep it." Cain and Abel 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 61 

made the first great division in agricultural labor, Cain tilling 
the ground and Abel keeping the sheep; which distinction in 
kinds of work is kept up unto the present day. After the 
flood we read that Noah became "a husbandman and planted 
a vineyard." The patriarchs also dwelt in tents, and their 
property consisted mainly in cattle, flocks and herds. Land 
at that time seems, to have been common property, and every 
man pitched his tent wherever he pleased, and moved about 
from place to place as often as he pleased. Egypt, called in 
Scripture the "Garden of the Lord," being yearly enriched by 
the overflowing of the Nile, early attracted the attention of 
the tillers of the soil. This country furnished a refuge from 
the terrible drouths which affected the pastures of Western 
Asia. As population centered on the banks of the Nile, agri- 
culture rose in importance, but the progress was slow. The 
change from the state of nature, and from a wandering pastoral 
life, must have been the work of ages. The nutritious quali- 
ties of the cereals, wheat, barley, etc., were a long time in being 
discovered, and when known, these grains were cultivated in 
the rudest manner. They were sown on the rich deposit of 
mud made by the annual overflow of the river, and the only 
harrowing they received was done by a herd of swine tramp- 
ling the seed into the ground. In Egypt, too, animal power 
was first applied to agriculture, but the plow, as delineated 
among the hieroglyphics on the ancient tombs, was an instru- 
ment much resembling our common picks. 

From Egypt, agriculture as well as letters migrated to 
Greece. Here in a soil by no means as congenial as that of 
Egypt, agriculture rose to a degree of perfection hitherto un- 
known, and here agricultural literature makes its first appear- 
ance. Hesoicl, who lived a thousand years before Christ, in 
his homely poem, "Works and Days," gives a detailed descrip- 
tion of a plow consisting of beam, share and handles. It must 
have been a clumsy, unwieldy instrument, for he recommends 
that the plowman be forty years old before he undertakes to 
handle it. He says: 



62 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

" Let a plowman yeared to forty, drive, 

And see the careful husbandman fed 

With plenteous morsels, and of wholesome bread." 

There is no question but that in the palmy days of Greece, 
agriculture attained a a high degree of perfection. Fine breeds 
of cattle and horses were raised, and extensive importations 
were made to improve the native stock. The use of manures 
was also well understood, which Pliny says was first taught by 
the old king Augeas. The compost heap was skillfully cared 
for, and everything added to it which could contribute to the 
fertility of the soil. Drainage was understood and practiced, 
and the swamps and marshes around Sparta were drained and 
rendered tillable. Farm tools were greatly, improved, and the 
land was thoroughly ploughed, and even subsoiled by the aid 
of mules and oxen. The Greek farmers also enjoyed the lux- 
ury of fruits, and had apples, pears, quinces, cherries, plums, 
peaches, nectarines and figs. With good culture of the soil, 
good houses became also a necessity, and rural architecture 
was carried to a high degree of perfection, though their archi- 
tects devoted their highest skill to the construction of temples 
and public buildings. 

With the march of empire Westward, the march of agricul- 
ture took its way from Greece to Italy. The culture of the 
soil was a fundamental idea in the Eoraan civilization. Seven 
acres of land were allotted by the State to each citizen, and in 
the early years of Rome no man was allowed to own more 
than this. Trading was never a characteristic of the Romans, 
and a merchant was ever considered by them inferior to a far- 
mer. As the territory of the empire was extended, the right 
of freehold to each individual was increased to fifty acres, and 
still later to five hundred, but as in Germany every man was 
once expected to learn a trade, so in Rome every citizen was 
expected to be a farmer, and Pliny ascribed the exceeding fer- 
tility of Italy to the fact that "The earth took delight in being- 
tilled by the hands of men crowned with laurels and decorated 
with triumphal honors." 

A Roman coveted, next to the honors of war, the honor of 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 63 

being a good husbandman. Distinguished generals and 
private soldiers, statesmen and citizens, the learned and the 
unlettered, alike prided themselves on their skill in architec- 
ture. Cato, the wise censor, eloquent orator and able general, 
wrote a treatise on agriculture. Cato's summary of the art of 
terraculture .cannot be excelled by the president, of any modern 
agricultural college. He says : " The first thing is to plow 
thoroughly, the second to plow, the third to manure, the 
fourth to choose good seeds and plenty of them, the fifth to 
root out all weeds." Neither Lord Bacon nor Horace Greeley 
ever uttered more practical troth for farmers in less space. 
They are the grand principles on which successful agriculture 
ever has rested and will ever rest. Science may explain these 
principles, but will never annul them. Cato not only under- 
stood the value of the plow, but insisted upon a thorough pul- 
verization of the soil by the harrow. He also knew the 
necessity of drainage, and recommended plowing wet land so 
as to throw it into ridges with deep furrows between them to 
carry off the water. 

From Columella's account of a Roman farm establishment 
we conclude the seven-acre arrangement was outgrown in his 
day. He divides the farm buildings into three classes, the 
mansion house, the laborers' cottages, and the barns and fruit 
houses. The details of these buildings show an age of great 
wealth and luxury among the rural classes. The mansion 
house is a large, square building constructed around an inner 
court with two complete suites of apartments, the one on the 
sunny side designed for winter, the other for summer. The 
drawing-rooms, dining-rooms, bathing-rooms, library, and ser- 
vants' apartments are all on a scale of magnificence which no 
seven or fifty acres, however highly cultivated, could support. 
Italy, however, had far greater facilities for the advancement 
of agriculture than Greece. Her soil was naturally fertile, 
agriculture was the honorable employment, and she had all 
the experience of Egypt and Greece to enlighten her in the 
art. Still, with all these advantages there were many other 
things in the very organization of Roman society which pre- 



64: THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

vented the art from reaching its highest development. The 
farmer received little aid from the merchant. Commerce was 
looked upon with contempt, and the merchant was treated as 
belonging to an inferior caste. Mechanics also received but 
little encouragement from the State, the mechanic arts conse- 
quently languished, and hence there was little co-operation of 
labor. Agriculture cannot rise to its highest perfection with- 
out the aid of commerce, manufactures and the mechanic arts. 
They support each other as do the trees of the forest, and any 
jealousy between them is foolish and suicidal. 

Another impediment to the advance of agriculture in Italy,, 
was the want of general intelligence. The patricians and 
nobles were highly educated, but the plebeians were kept in 
ignorance. The masses toiled on without knowledge or hope, 
serving the nobility and amassing property for the few to 
whom wealth brought luxury, and that extreme refine- 
ment known by the ungallant term, "effeminacy." The til- 
lage of the soil was left more and more in the hands of menial 
slaves, till in the fifth centurj 7 , when the vast tide of Barba- 
rians from the North swept over Italy, and indeed the whole 
of Southern Europe, bringing on the long night of the middle 
ages, when might made right, and all kinds of property, and 
especially the products of the farm, as most exposed, were in- 
secure. This long night continued with scarcely a gleam of 
light from the fifth to the sixteenth century, during which 
time agriculture maintained but a feeble existence. 

"We pass now from Italy to Britain, and from the old to the 
modern type of agriculture. The Romans introduced the art 
into England during the first four centuries of the Christian 
era. But when the Roman power fell and the Saxons invaded 
England, a great check was given to agriculture. These Sax- 
ons were a rude people, subsisting mainly by the chase and by 
keeping large numbers of cattle, sheep and swine. The latter 
were fattened in the forests on the mast of the oak and beach, 
as but small quantities of grain were raised, not enough to 
furnish a decent supply of breadstuffs. The character of the 
food is said by physiologists to determine somewhat the char- 




F A R M ? E T 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 65 

acter of the man and the nation. We are inclined to think 
there is a basis of truth in this, but whether true or not we 
can not deny that our Saxon ancestors were wild and semi- 
savage, too much like the beasts they hunted, and on whose 
flesh they mainly subsisted. JSTo hoed crops and no edible 
vegetables were raised, and as late as the time of Henry the 
Vllltb, salad was brought over from Holland to supply the 
table of Queen Catharine, who had been accustomed in her 
childhood to a more civilized diet than England afforded. 
Neither Indian corn, nor potatoes, nor squashes, nor carrots, 
nor cabbages, nor turnips were known in England till after 
the beginning of the sixteenth century. The suffering among 
the people was often intense. The shelters for man and beast 
were of the rudest kind, and it was estimated that one-fifth of 
the cattle perished each winter for the want of proper food 
and care. 

The condition of the peasantry was miserable in the ex- 
treme. They seemingly had no rights which the landlords 
were bound to respect. If an estate was sold, the tenants were 
obliged to give up all, even their standing crops, without com- 
pensation. With such an uncertain tenure of property, agri- 
culture could not be expected to flourish. So late as 1745, 
Marshal Noailler remarked to the king of France, " The 
misery of the mass of the people is indescribable;" and the 
remark was as applicable to England as to France. The feudal 
system gave some little protection to persons and property 
against petty feuds and depredations among neighbors, .but it 
was too much like the protection that cats give to mice. The 
ignorant and tyrannical lords protected the peasantry much as 
they protected their cattle and horses, and for the same selfish 
reasons. 

The darkness of the Middle Ages retired slowly. It was' 
left to Jethro Tull, in the earlier part of the eighteenth cen- 
tury, to make the first long stride in both the science and art 
of agriculture. Tull investigated the principles of fertility, 
and invented a horse-hoe and the grain-drill to carry out his 
idea of thorough tillage. He also invented the threshing ma- 
5 



66 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

chine, but the ignorant English landholders declared it to be 
an "engine of the devil," and continued the use of the flail 
and fan until the commencement of the present century. If 
Tull had not made the great mistake of rejecting the aid of 
manure, his theory of the thorough pulverization of the soil, 
and his improved agricultural implements, would have been 
adopted at a much earlier day. What Tull did for the benefit 
of the culture of the soil, Eakewell did in the improvement of 
the herds of cattle and sheep. He studied the laws of breed- 
ing patiently and intelligently, and laid the foundation for the 
present thoroughbreds of England, which confessedly stand 
at the head of the herds and flocks of the world, though we 
expect to see still better in America. 

To Arthur Young, who died in 1820, the world is indebted 
more than to any other man for the advancement of the mod- 
ern science of agriculture. He visited different parts of Eu- 
rope to study his favorite art, and made many experiments to 
ascertain the causes of fertility. To him we are indebted for 
ascertaining the value of ammonia, which, previous to his 
time, had been thought to be injurious to vegetation. Young 
tried it on various soils and various crops, and found it in ev- 
ery trial to succeed. We now look upon ammonia as the test 
of value for most manures. Young also experimented with 
summer fallows, and came to the conclusion that covering the 
soil is more beneficial than naked fallow, and that a rotation 
of crops is all the rest the land needs; a conclusion which has 
added millions to the wealth of England and America. Young- 
drew from his experiments the important principle that nitro- 
genous manures increase the power of plants to avail them- 
selves of the mineral resources of the soil, thus establishing 
the necessity for the use of both these classes of manure; a 
principle fully corroborated by all experimenters since his 
day. By him, also, salt was first introduced into England as 
a manure. Young embodied the results of his investigations 
in a comprehensive work called the "Annals of Agriculture." 

In 1793, at the request of the English board of agriculture, 
Sir Humphrey Davy, the first chemist of his age, was induced 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. <57 

to investigate the elements of soil and manure, and his lectures 
mark an important era in the history of the art. They were 
published in 1813 under the title, "Elements of Agriculture." 
In this work, Davy explains the construction of plants, gives 
the analysis of soils and manures and their adaptation to each 
other. The zeal of Davy for agriculture led him to a prac- 
tical testing of his theories in the field. We find him in 1805 
experimenting with guano, which Baron Humboldt had dis- 
covered in the islands of the Pacific. He first recommended 
the use of bones for manure, which have since played so im- 
portant a part in English agriculture. What Davy and Johns- 
ton did for agriculture in England, Liebig has done in Ger- 
many. 

While our own country has been slow in adopting all the 
theories of the European savans, yet their works have been 
extensively circulated, and the seed sown by them has borne 
legitimate and satisfactory fruit. In the department of farm 
implements we are leading the world. In cattle and sheep 
breeding, we also compare favorably with the Old World. 
But still the capacities of American agriculture, as a whole, 
have only begun to be developed, and there never was a time 
when, and never a country where, husbandry could be car- 
ried on to such advantage as in this country. Farmers have 
only to be true to themselves and their opportunities to be es- 
teemed as the real noblemen of the land. 

So much for the pleasure, dignity and profitableness of a 
country life, and the history of agricultural pursuits. These 
however, are the sober and prosaic aspects of the subject. Let 
us now glance at its poetical side. In the Odyssey of Homer, 
written in the noontide vigor of Grecian life, we find the fol- 
lowing description of the garden of Alcinous: 

" Four acres was the allotted space of ground, 
Fenced with a green enclosure all around ; 
Tall thriving trees confined the fruitful mold, 
The reddening apple ripens here to gold. 
Here the blue fig with luscious juice o'erflows, 
With deeper red the full pomegranate glows, 
The branch here bends beneath the weighty pear 



68 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

And verdant olives flourish round the year. 
The balmy spirit of the western gale 
Eternal breaihes on fruits untaught to fail, 
Each dropping pear a following pear supplies,. 
On apples apples, figs on figs arise. 
The same mild season gives the bloom to blow, 
The buds to harden and the fruits to grow. 
Here ordered vines in equal ranks appear 
With all th' united labors of the year; 
Some to unload the fertile branches run, 
Some dry the blackening clusters in the sun; 
Others to tread the liquid harvest join ; 
The groaning presses foam with floods of wine* 
Here are the vines in early flowers descried, 
Here grapes discolored on the sunny side. 
And there in Autumn's richest purple dyed." 

Thomas May, a poet and historian of the parliament of 
England, says: 

" None can describe the sweets of country life 
But those blest men that do enjoy and taste them. 
Plain husbandmen, though far below our pitch 
Of fortune placed, enjoy a wealth above us. 
They breathe the fresh and uncorrupted air, 
And in pure homes enjoy untroubled sleep. 
Their state is fearless and secure, enriched 
With many blessings such as greatest kings 
Might in true justice envy, and themselves 
Would count too happy, if they truly knew them. 

Sir Walter Raleigh, a courtier and warrior of Queen Eliza- 
beth's time, writes: 

Abused mortals! did you know 

Where joy, heart's-ease and comforts grow, 

You'd scorn proud towers 

And seek them in rural bowers. 

John Gay, another English poet, writing of ''Rural Sports/ 7 
says: 

O happy shepherds who, secure from fear, 
On open downs preserve their fleecy care! 
Whose spacious barns groan with increasing store, 
And whirling flails disjoint the cracking floor. 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 69 

And again in the same poem he acids: 

What happiness the rural maid attends, 
In cheerful labor while each day she spends! 
She gratefully receives what heaven hath sent, 
And, rich in poverty, enjoys content. 
She never loses life in thoughtless ease, 
Nor on the velvet couch invites disease; 
Her home-spun dress in simple neatness lies, 
And for no glaring, gaudy trappings sighs. 
No midnight masquerade her beauty wears, 
And health, not paint, the fading bloom repairs. 

Goldsmith, in the " Deserted Tillage," thus paints a picture 
of country life: 

Sweet was the sound when oft at evening's close, 
Up yonder hill the village murmur rose; 
There, as I passed with careless steps and slow, 
The mingled notes came softened from below; 
The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung, 
The sober herd that lowed to meet their young, 
The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, 
The playful children just let loose from school; 
The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the gentle wind, 
And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind; 
These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, 
And filled each pause the nightingale had made. 

James Beattie, the Scottish minstrel, asks: 

How can'st thou renounce the boundless store 

Of charms which nature to her votaiy yields! 

The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, 

The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields; 

All that, the genial ray of morning gilds, 

And all that echoes to the song of even, 

All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields, 

And all the dread magnificence of heaven — 

O how can'st these renounce, and hope to be forgiven ! 

Coming to our own country, listen to what Ralph Waldo 
Emerson says: 

when I am safe in my sylvan home, 

1 mock at the pride of Greece and Rome; 



70 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

And when I am stretched beneath the pines, 

When the evening star so holy shines, 

I laugh at the lore and pride of man, 

At the Sophist schools and the learned clan ; 

For what are they all in their high conceit 

When man in the bush with God may meet? 

On the other hand, Cowper, writing of city life and pleas- 
ures, says: 

Suburban villas, highway-side retreats, 

That dread the encroachment of growing streets, 

Tight boxes, neatly sashed, and all in a blaze, 

With a July's sun collected rays, 

Delight the city man, who, gasping there, 

Breathes clouds of dust and calls it country air. 

Again, Matthew Prior, living a little earlier than Cowper y 
hits off the same contrast as follows: 

The city merchant has his house in town, 
But a country-seat near Banstead down ; 
From one he dates his foreign letters^ 
Sends out his goods and duns his debtors; 
In the other, during hours of leisure, 
He smokes his pipe and takes his pleasure. 

To sum up, therefore, on this question of location, we say 
to the reader, whether young man or young lady or middle- 
aged man without a family, go where you are sure you can do 
the best, be it in city, in town, or in the country; but be very' 
sure that you will better yourself materially, before leaving a 
good, comfortable place in the country to go to the city. The 
chances are ten to one that before a year passes over your 
head, you will wish yourself back again in the old place. If a 
man has plenty of money to spend or to invest in business, he 
can get along in a city very nicely while his money lasts; 
but the moment that is gone, he might as well be in a prison, 
or in a desert, as in a city. As financial and business matters 
go in times of depression, the city is the last place on earth 
for a poor man with a family, or even for single persons, unless 
they know just what they are to do before they go there, and 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 71 

unless they are pretty certain they will succeed in their new 
work after beginning it. 

To go to a city with a vague idea or hope of getting into 
some kind of profitable business, or falling in with some grand 
chance to make money, is the greatest folly imaginable. Such 
chances rarely occur to begin with, and when found, a thou- 
sand men on the ground, waiting and watching, stand ready to 
seize upon it before the opportunity is an hour old. As a rule, 
there is no greater slave on earth than the average city clerk, 
book-keeper, apprentice or workman of any kind. Late and 
early hours, steady application, conformity to strict rules and 
a constant liability to discharge for the smallest offenses, are a 
permanent quantity in the life of every working man or work- 
ing woman in a city. J^or is it much better for the capital- 
ist,, if he be not well posted in all the games of sharpers and 
confidence men and rascals of every kind, and if he be not 
very sharp and keen himself; for his money will be cheated out 
of him, or he will lose it in unlucky speculation, before^ he is 
aware of it. The history of all kinds of business or of spec- 
ulative ventures in any city would not offer any encourage- 
ment to a man of means to try his hand in such uncertain 
enterprises; for where one succeeds, a dozen or twenty fail. 

To be sure there is more to be seen and heard in a city than 
in the country, there is also much more life and bustle, noise 
and clatter. The shop windows display elegant goods of every 
description, but there is little satisfaction to sensible minds 
in seeing and wanting, and not being able to purchase. Again, 
there is always a higher and more aristocratic class of people 
living in cities, generally speaking, than in small places, but 
poor people, or people below a certain social level, cannot as- 
sociate with them, so their superior elegance does one no good 
unless he or she is within the ring. 

If a man commences life in a small place with limited 
opportunities tor, expansion, fairly and honestly outgrow T s his 
straightened quarters, and, like Alexander the Great, sighs for 
more worlds to conquer, in such a case, if he takes pains be- 
forehand to inquire thoroughly into the difficulties likely to be 



72 



THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY 



encountered in a new situation, and if he feels competent to 
grapple with them and conquer them, let him come to a city 
and try his hand in a new and larger sphere. But other things 
being equal, if a man is doing well and is comfortably situated 
in the country, he had by all means better let well enough 
alone, than venture out on an unknown and untried city sea, 
where financial and moral shipwrecks abound on every hand, 
and where possible disasters multiply and thicken in about an 
equal ratio with the increase of population. Time was, when 
young business men could go into cities and do well, but that 
time has gone by and will probably never return, for the sim- 
ple reason that the cities are overcrowded already, and there 
is no prospect of their population growing less. 

Beware, then, of that foolish fascination which the idea of 
living in the city is liable to exercise over every young heart 
and mind. There is a class of people who had rather die by 
inches in a city than live well in the country, but such people 
are so shallow and weak-minded that it makes but little differ- 
ence where they live or die. They are simply human moths 
fluttering round the great city candle. With proper care and 
effort, a country life can be made just as enjoyable as a life in' 
the city, and much more healthy and profitable. 

How can it be done? By following out these suggestions: 
"Fill the farm-houses with periodicals and books. Establish 
central reading rooms, or neighborhood clubs. Encourage the 
social meetings of the young. Have concerts, lectures, ama- 
teur dramatic associations. Establish a bright, active,, social 
life, that shall give some significance to labor. Above all, 
build, as far as possible, in villages. It is better to go a mile 
to one's daily labor than to place one's self a mile away from 
a neighbor. The isolation of American farm life is the great 
curse of that life. The towns of Hadley, Northfield, Hatfield 
and Deerfield, on the Connecticut River, to this day remain 
villages of agriculturists. Europe for many centuries was 
cultivated by people who lived in villages. And this is the 
way in which all farmers should live. Settle in colonies, in- 
stead of singly, whenever feasible or possible," : 




IL § (S E U I 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 73 




CIIAPTEK V. 
SUCCESSFUL ELEMENTS IN CHARACTER 

NUMBER ONE. 

Concentration of Mind and Powee. 

Think not too meanly of thy low estate ; 
Thou hast a choice — to choose is to create! 

O. W. Holmes. 
£f 

N imperial highway to fortune cannot and must not 
'be a very wide one, neither must it branch off inahun- 
dred different directions. On the contrary, it must be 
a " straight and narrow way," and well trodden. The man 
who attempts to know or do everything, will succeed in really 
knowing and accomplishing but very little. Sidney Smith says 
in a lecture upon the conduct of the understanding, "Very often 
the modern precept of education is, Be ignorant of nothing. 
But my advice is, have the courage to be ignorant of a great 
number of things, that you may avoid the calamity of being 
ignorant of all things." 

It is generally thought that when a man is said to be dis- 
sipated in his habits he must be a drinking man, or a gambler, 
or licentious, or all three; but dissipation is of two kinds, 
coarse and refined. A man can dissipate or scatter all of his 
mental energies and physical power by indulging in too mairy 
respectable diversions, as easily as in habits of a viler nature. 
Property and its cares make some men dissipated; too many 
friends make others. The exactions of "society," the balls, 
parties, receptions, and various entertainments constantly be- 
ing given and attended by the beau monde, constitute a most 



74 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

wasting species of dissipation. Others, again, fritter away all 
their time and strength in political agitations, or in contro- 
versies and gossip; others in idling with music or some other 
one of the fine arts; others in feasting or fasting, as their dis- 
positions and feelings incline. But the man of concentration 
of purpose is never a dissipated man in any sense, good or bad. 
He has no time to devote to useless trifling of any kind, but 
puts in as many strokes of faithful work as possible towards 
the attainment of some definite good. 

Thousands of men have failed in life by dabbling in too 
many things. In ancient times, great men and scholars as- 
pired to know everything, but the day of universal knowledge 
and scholarship is past. The range of human inquiry has now 
extended to a degree when the true measure of a man's 
learning will' be the amount of his voluntary ignorance, or 
the number of studies which he chooses to let alone. And as 
with knowledge so with work. Every man who means to be 
successful must single out from a vast number of possible em- 
ployments some specialty, and to that devote himself thor- 
oughly. It will, in fact, puzzle the wisest and strongest of 
men now to keep fairly abreast of any single branch of knowl- 
edge or of industrial enterprise. " It is said that a Yankee 
can splice a rope in many different ways; an English sailor 
knows but one mode, but that mode is the best. The one 
thing which an Englisman detests with his whole soul is a 
Jack-of-all- trades, the miscellaneous man who knows a little 
of everything. England is not a country for average men; 
every profession is overstocked, and the only chance of success 
is for the man of signal ability and address to climb to a lofty 
position over the heads of a hundred others. America on the 
other hand, is full of persons who can do many things, but 
who do no one thing well. The secret of their failure is 
mental dissipation, — the squandering of the energies upon a 
distracting variety of objects, instead of condensing them upon 
one." And what is true of England in respect to numbers is 
true of all European countries; hence, the best workmen in 
almost every department of industry in this country, are 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 75 

largely foreigners, who, in the Old "World, devoted the early 
part of their lives to the learning of some one trade or profes- 
sion, and then emigrated to this country bringing their supe- 
rior attainment in workmanship with them. 

There are very few universal geniuses in the world. Said a 
learned American chemist, " My friend laughs at me because 
I have but one idea, but I have learned that if I wish ever to 
make a breach in a wall, I must play my guns continually upon 
one point." And such gunnery is usually successful. Said 
Charles Dickens, " Whatever I have tried to do in life, I have 
tried with all my heart to do well. What I have devoted my- 
self to, I have devoted myself to completely." This he found 
to be a golden rule. Says Dr. Mathews: "Many a person 
misses of being a great man by splitting into two middling 
ones. The highest ability will accomplish but little, if scat- 
tered on a multiplicity of objects; while, on the other hand, 
if one has but a thimbleful of brains, and concentrates them all 
upon the thing he has in hand, he may achieve miracles. Mo- 
mentum in physics, properly directed, will drive a tallow 
candle through an inch board." 

Once in a great while a man appears in history like Cicero, 
or Bacon, or Dante, or Leonardo da Yinci, who is a real prod- 
igy of genius, and who, like these, acquires an immense amount 
of learning, and does a great many different kinds of work, 
and does them all well; but the very rareness of such men 
proves the contrary condition to be the rule. Da Yinci, the 
last-named of the above four, was a Florentine painter and 
sculptor, living from 1452 to 1519. Besides his devotion to 
painting and sculpture, he excelled in architecture (as did 
Michael Angelo, his co temporary), engineering and mechan- 
ics generalty, botany, anatomy, mathematics and astronomy. 
He was also a poet and an admirable performer on the lyre. 
His greatest work in painting, by which he became most 
famous, was " The Last Supper," originally executed in oil on 
the wall of a Dominican convent, and considered at the time 
to be the best work of art ever produced. Gladstone, when 
Prime Minister of England, not only attended to the multi- 



76 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

plied affairs of State, but at the same time made experiments 
with Sykes' hydrometer (an instrument for determining the 
specific gravity of liquids), answered letters innumerable, con- 
ducted a correspondence with half a dozen Greek scholars 
concerning controverted points in Homer, translated scores of 
English hymns into Latin verse, and wrote occasional pam- 
phlets of forty pages or soon some legal point. But this very 
distraction of thought, this want of concentration in effort, was 
the precise cause of his failure as a party leader, and gave 
occasion for Disraeli, his rival and political opponent, to take 
advantage of his weakness, oust him from his exalted seat, and 
sit down there himself in triumph! 

But with these few exceptions, made by minds essentially 
•creative and phenomenally great, most of the great historic 
names are identified with some single achievement to which 
they gave their lives. When you read of James Watt, his 
name stands associated with improvements in the steam-en- 
gine. This was his great and only life-work. Sir Richard 
Arkwright's work was the invention and improvement of 
machinery for spinning cotton. Dr. Wm. Harvey is distin- 
guished for the discovery of the circulation of the blood, and 
for that alone. Professor Morse, only succeeded in working 
out one thing, and that the electric telegraph. Count Cavour 
gave his life to the unification of his beloved country, Italy, 
and Bismarck has accomplished the same political result for 
Germany. Commodore Macdonough, the hero of Lake 
Champlain, won his memorable naval victory by pointing all 
his guns at the "big ship" of the enemy, until her fire was 
silenced. Pufus Choate, the great lawyer, was wont to so 
concentrate his energies upon a case in hand, after once espous- 
ing it, that he could not sleep. His mind, as he himself said, 
took up the cause involved like a great ship and bore it on 
night and day till a verdict was reached; and he was gener- 
ally so exhausted that several days elapsed before he dared to 
take up a new case. 

Another marvelous career was that of William Pitt, the 
•celebrated English statesmen. " If there was anything divine 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 77 

in this man, whom his contemporaries called a' heaven-born 
statesman, it was the marvelous gift of concentrating his 
powers. Whatever he did, he did with all his might. Ever 
master of himself, he converged all the rajs of his mind, as 
x into a focus, upon the object in hand, worked like a horse, and 
did nothing by halves. Hence with him there was no half 
vision, no sleepy eyes, no dawning sense. All his life he had 
his wits about him so intensely directed to the point required, 
that, it is said, he seemed never to learn, but only to recollect. 
He gave men an answer before they knew there was a riddle; 
he had formed a decision before they had heard of a difficulty. 
His lightning had struck and done its work, before they had 
heard the thunder-clap which announced it. Is it strange that 
such a man went straightway from college- into the House of 
Commons, and in two years to the Prime Ministership of 
Great Britain, — reigned for nearly a quarter of a century, vir- 
tual king, — and carried his measures in spite of the opposition 
of some of the greatest men England ever produced? The 
simple secret of his success was, that his w T hole soul was swal- 
lowed up in the one passion for political power. So we see 
him neglecting everything else, — careless of friends, careless 
of expenditures, so that with an income of fifty thousand dol- 
lars yearly, and no family, he died hopelessly in debt; tearing 
up by the roots from his heart a love most deep and tender y 
because it ran counter to his ambition; totally indifferent to 
posthumous fame, so that he did not take the pains to trans- 
mit to posterity a single one of his speeches; utterly insensible 
to the claims of art, literature, and belles-lettres; living and 
working terribly for the. one sole purpose of wielding the gov- 
ering power of the nation." 

One of Ignatius Loyola's maxims was, "He who does well 
one work at a time, does more than all." By spreading our 
efforts over too large a surface we inevitably weaken our force, 
hinder our progress, and acquire a habit of fitfulness and in- 
effective working. Whatever a youth undertakes to learn, he 
should not be suffered to leave it until he can reach his arms 
round it and clench his hands on the other side. Thus he will 



78 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

learn the habit of thoroughness. Lord St. Leonards once 
communicated to Sir Fowell Buxton, the mode in which he 
had conducted his studies, and thus explained the secret of his 
success. "1 resolved," said he, " when beginning to read law, 
to make everything I acquired perfectly my own, and never 
to go to a second thing till I had entirely accomplished 
the first. Many of my competitors read as much in a day as 
I read in a week; but, at the end of twelve months, my 
knowledge was as fresh as the day it was acquired, while 
theirs had glided away from recollection." Sir E. B. Lytton, 
once explaining how it was that, whilst so fully engaged in 
active life, he had written so many books, observed, " I con- 
trived to do so much, by never doing too much at a time. As 
a general rule, I have devoted to study not more than three 
hours a clay; and, when Parliament is sitting, not always that. 
But then, during those hours, I have given my whole atten- 
tion to what I was about." 

It is not the quantity of study that one gets through that 
makes a wise man, but the appositeness of the study to the 
purpose for which it is pursued; the concentration of mind, 
for the time being, upon the subject under consideration; and 
the habitual discipline by which the whole system of mental 
application is regulated. Abernethy was even of opinion that 
there was a point of saturation in his own mind, and that if 
he took into it something more than it could hold, it only had 
the effect of pushing something else out. And every brain- 
worker knows by experience that this opinion is founded on 
fact. One of the qualities which early distinguished John C. 
Calhoun was his power of attention. A gentleman who in 
his youth was wont to accompany Mr. Calhoun in his strolls 
states that the latter endeavored to impress upon his friend 
the importance of cultivating this faculty; "and to encourage 
me in my efforts," says the writer, " he stated that to this end 
he had early subjected his mind to such a rigid course of dis- 
cipline, and had persisted without faltering until he had early 
acquired a perfect control over it; that he could now confine it 
to any subject as long as he pleased, without wandering even 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 79 

for a moment; that it was his uniform habit, when he set out 
alone to walk or ride, to select a subject for reflection, and that 
he never suffered his attention to wander from it until he was 
satisfied with its examination." It has been remarked by Sir 
William Hamilton that u the difference between an ordinary 
mind and the mind of Newton consists principally in this, 
that the one is capable of a more continuous attention than 
the other, — that a Newton is able, without fatigue, to connect 
inference with inference in one long series toward a determined 
end; while the man of inferior capacity is soon obliged to 
break or let fall the thread which he has begun to spin." 

We would not deny, however, but that there is an injurious 
and even an offensive sense in which a man can be possessed of 
one idea. A man may become like a tree with all its branches 
on one side, and so become a mental and moral deformity. 
What would we think of a man who was all head, or all stom- 
ach, or all arms and legs? Even so a man may become so 
warped and one-sided, mentally, as to practically forget there 
is anything else in the world besides his own trade or profession; 
and then he is not a ivhole man, but simply a distorted frag- 
ment. The first thing to be done in human culture is to de- 
velop as far as possible all the powers of the mind, and then 
ask nature which one faculty she intended to have in the front 
as leader of the rest. A clergyman all divinity and nothing 
else, or a lawyer all precedents and decisions and revised stat- 
utes, or a scholar all book-learning and nothing more, is always 
a more or less pitiable sight. The seamstress should be some- 
thing more than an animated needle, and the day-laborer more 
than a walking spade. Saint Bernard, the pious abbot of Clair- 
vaux, was so much of a saint that he could keep no flesh on 
his bones. Neander, church historian and a professor in one 
of the German universities, so neglected the practical side of 
his nature that after walking over the ground for nearly thirty 
years, he could not find his way from the lecture-room to his 
own house alone. Coleridge and Wordsworth with all their 
learning and poetical fame, did not together know enough to 
take off the collar from a horse, but had to be shown how by 



80 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

a servant girl. Douglas Jerrold said he once knew a man with 
twenty-four languages, but who had not an idea in any of them/ 
All these are cases of one-ideaism pushed too far. Such 
characters are not good specimens of fully-developed men, but 
are only distortions or dwarfs. Walpole tells us that Charles 
James Fox, after making his great and exhausting speech in 
the trial of Warren Hastings, could so far drop his specialty 
and his lawyer-like greatness as to go out, after the speech was 
concluded, and hand the ladies into their coaches with all the 
sprightliness and easy gayety of an idle gallant. It makes 
not so much difference if a man have two or three side-tracks 
on which he can "switch off" now and then, provided the side- 
tracks all lead to the same terminus with the main line. But 
a man must not be on side-tracks all his life. Edward Everett 
is an example of a man who tried to do so many different kinds 
of w T ork, that he really excelled in none. He started life as a 
Unitarian minister, then became a professor in Harvard Col- 
lege, from which he had previously graduated at 17, w 7 ent to 
Europe and studied four years more, came home and became 
an orator and lecturer, went to Congress for ten years as a rep- 
resentative, was Governor of Massachusetts for four years, 
became Minister to England in 1841, was elected President uf 
Harvard College in 1849, was next made Secretary of State 
under President Fillmore, was chosen U. S. Senator in 1853, 
but resigned, and lastly ran as candidate for Vice-President in, 
1860 on the ticket with John Bell of Tennessee. He died two 
or three years after the civil war broke out. De Quincy the 
English writer and opium eater, is another example of the 
same kind, and so is Coleridge, a man of gigantic intellectual 
capacity. When Charles Lamb heard of his death he wrote 
to a friend: "Coleridge is dead, and is said to have left behind 
him above forty thousand treatises on metaphysics and divinity 
— and not one of them complete." The poet Pread, describing 
a certain vicar, says of him: 

" His talk is like a stream which runs 
With rapid change from rocks to roses; 
It slips from politics to puns, 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. ' 81 

It glides from Mahomet to Moses. 
Beginning with the laws that keep 
The planets in their radiant courses, 
And ending with some precept deep 
For skinning eels or shoeing horses." 

It is necessary therefore to concentrate both mind and energy 
on any chosen pursuit in order to secure excellence or win 
prizes therein. Some people are always complaining that they 
cannot keep their thoughts from wandering whenever they, sit 
down to write, read, or work; in other words, they have no 
power to concentrate their minds on any given point or theme 
to the exclusion of others. But such people have never really 
learned to think. They lack mental discipline and culture. 
They need to cultivate strength of will. Napoleon said of 
himself that his mind resembled a bureau. He could pull out 
one drawer, examine its contents to the exclusion of all others, 
shut it up when he had finished, and then pull out another. 
That is, he was able to take up one subject after another, con- 
centrate the whole power of his mind upon it while under 
examination, then dismiss it at once and completely, like the 
shutting up of a drawer in a bureau, and so proceed until the 
entire range of topics in his mind had been passed upon. 
Such power is a very valuable acquisition; in fact, there can 
be little progress in mental growth without it. If a man cannot 
first control his thoughts in some measure, how can he control 
his acts? And if not able to control either thought or act, he 
is like a balloon in the air, or a ship on the ocean without a 
rudder, the sport of wind and wave. The power which he 
may possess will drive him ahead, but it will not drive him 
straight towards the goal of his ambition. 

And so we end this chapter by repeating that all men who 
hope to be successful in life and build for themselves an im- 
perial highway to fortune, must choose some kind of work for 
which they find themselves best adapted, and then stick to it. 
Bishop Butler spent twenty years of his life writing one book, 
the " Analogy," but the book is as immortal as the Bible itself. 
Edward Gibbon, the historian, worked the same number of 



82 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

years over his "Decline and Fall of the Eoman Empire," but 
that work will never die. Immanuel Kant, the German phi- 
losopher, devoted fifty years to the investigation of metaphysic 
problems. Isaac Newton wrote his " Chronology " over sev- 
enteen times. Adam Smith worked ten years at " The Wealth 
of Nations." Indeed, "to strive for a high professional posi- 
tion, and yet expect to have all the delights of leisure; to labor 
for vast riches, and yet to ask for freedom from anxiety and 
care, and all the happiness which flows from a contented mind; 
to indulge in sensual gratification, and yet demand health, 
strength, and vigor; to live for self, and yet to look for the joys 
that spring from a virtuous and self-denying life, — is to ask 
for impossibilities. The world is a market where everything 
is marked at a settled price; and whatever we buy with our 
time, labor, or ingenuity, — whether riches, ease, tranquillity, 
fame, integrity, or knowledge, — we must stand by our decis- 
ion, and not, like children, when we have purchased one thing 
repine that we do not possess another which we did not buy." 
In one of Lucian's Dialogues, Jupiter complains to Cupid 
that, though he has had so many intrigues, he was never sin- 
cerely beloved. In order to be loved, says Cupid, you must 
lay aside your segis and your thunderbolts, and you must curl 
and perfume your hair, and place a garland on your head, and 
walk with a soft step, and assume a winning, obsequious de- 
portment. But, replied Jupiter, I am not willing to resign sa 
much of my dignity. Then, returns Cupid, leave off desiring 
to be loved. He wanted to be Jupiter and Adonis at the same 
time, and he could not. Alexandre, of Paris, made "kid" 
gloves his specialty, and now his trade-mark imparts to manu- 
factured ratskins a value peculiarly their own. William and 
Robert Chambers devoted their energies to the production of 
cheap books and periodicals, and their wealth is counted by 
millions. Faber has fabricated pencils till he has literally 
made his mark in every land. The genius of the great Dr. 
Brandreth ran to pills, and his name is now as familiar as a 
household word all over the world. Mason gave his whole soul 
to the invention of good blacking, and now his name shines 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 83 

like a pair of boots to which it has been applied. Herring the 
manufacturer of safes, has salamandered himself into celeb- 
rity, and Tobias the watchmaker, has ticked his way to fame 
and fortune. A. T. Stewart made bales of dry- goods his step- 
ping-stones to the proud position of a millionaire, — becoming 
at once the Croesus and the Colossus of the trade; and Robert 
Bonner, advertising by the acre, discovered a new way of reap- 
ing golden harvests from the overworked soil of journalism. 

The greatest actors are those who take one or a few charac- 
ters and leave all others alone. Edwin Booth plays ever the 
same list of characters, while Joe Jeiferson sticks to one, but 
in that he has become so perfect as to almost lose in it his 
personal identity. And the same is true of Lawrence Barrett 
JolinT. Raymond, and a score of others. Broad culture, many- 
sidedness are beautiful accomplishments to look at and admire, 
but it is always the men of single and intense purpose who 
concentrate their power, that do the hard and valuable work 
of the world, and who are everywhere in demand when such 
work is to be done. 




84 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 




CHAPTER VI. 

SUCCESSFUL ELEMENTS IN CHARACTER. 

NUMBER TWO. 

Self-Help. 

At thirty, man suspects himself a fool ; 
At forty, knows it, and reforms his plan ; 
At fifty, chiding infamous delay, 
Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve. 
In all the magnanimity of thought 
Resolves, and re-resolves ; then dies the same. 

Edward Young. 

»W much should one who is building a highway to 
fortune, depend upon himself, and how much help 
should he be willing to receive from others in its con- 
struction? There has been a good deal said and written about 
self-made men — a good deal that is true and just, and much 
that is the veriest " bosh" in the world. It has been held that 
early hardships, poverty, obstacles and difficulties of all kinds 
in early life, only develop and bring out the heroic qualities of 
a young, manly spirit, and in reality assist in making it great 
strong and wise, if it ever becomes such. Whereas, on the 
other hand, it is held that if the pathway of a young man is 
made easy, safe and smooth before him by the advice and pe- 
cuniary aid of others, it will practically be ruinous to character 
by making him weak, irresolute and effeminate. And the 
supporting analogy of this view is, that it is not in the shel- 
tered garden or the hot-house, but on the rugged Alpine cliffs,, 
where the storms beat most violently, that the toughest plants 
are reared. It is not by the use of corks, bladders, and life- 
preservers that you can best learn to swim, but by plunging 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 85 

courageously into the wave and buffeting it, like Cassius and 
Caesar, with lusty sinews; that difficulties and trials in life 
knit one's muscles more firmly and teach him self-reliance, 
just as by wrestling with an athlete who is a superior in 
strength, one would not only increase his own strength, but 
learn the secret of his conqueror's skill. 

Now, that there is some truth in this representation, no 
man who has himself been a warrior in the strife will deny; 
but the error involved is, that the theory is generally pushed 
farther than the facts of life and of human character warrant. 
A certain amount of difficulty, when happily overcome, un- 
doubtedly does strengthen resolution, invigorate the will, 
and toughen the cords and sinews of the mind and heart. But 
let the obstacles thicken around any human spirit until they 
become practically insurmountable, and so far from develop- 
ing its qualities, they crush it to the earth. Poe, in "The 
Haven," speaks of such an one 

" Whom unmerciful disaster, 
Followed fast and followed faster, 
Till his songs one burden bore; 
Till the dirges of his hope, the 
Melancholy burden bore, 
Of 'Never — nevermore.'" 

~No human spirit can bear up long under the crushing 
weight of despair, and whenever difficulties and trials in life 
are of such a nature, or come so fast, as to induce this state 
then they cripple, hinder and bruise the mind more than they 
assist in developing its latent resources. The mother eagle, 
when her birdlings have grown large and strong enough to fly, 
calls them out of the nest, drives them to the edge of the cliff, 
and then deliberately pushes them off. But does she abandon 
them then? By no means; on the contrary, when she sees 
them fluttering and falling farther and farther dowm, swifter 
than an arrow she darts beneath them, lets them fall upon 
her strong, wide back, and carries them triumphantly to the 
old nest again. This is Nature's method of developing latent 
power, and from this we may gain a hint for human reason to 
profit by in the treatment of young and growing minds. 



86 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

A certain amount of hardship in early life seems essential 
to ultimate success, but every young mind needs to be under 
the constant watchcare of some fostering and protecting parent 
or guardian. To send young people out into the world and 
then leave them to shift for themselves, or to start a young 
man on a course of education, and then say, "Oh, if he has 
the right stuff in him he will manage to get along somehow,"' 
is not only hazardous, but a policy which is prompted by false 
philosophy, not to say by criminal ignorance of life's dangers, 
and ot' the inherent susceptibilities of an ardent, youthful 
nature. 

We fully agree with Dr. Mathews, when he denounces 
"young men of vivid imaginations, who, instead of carrying 
their own burdens, are always dreaming of some Hercules 
coming to give them a ' lift.' The vision haunts their minds 
of some benevolent old gentleman, — a bachelor, with no chil- 
dren, of course, but with a bag full of money, and a trunk full 
of mortgages and stocks, who, being astonishingly quick to 
detect merit or genius, will give them a trifle of ten or twenty 
thousand dollars, with which they will earn a hundred thou- 
sand more. Or, perhaps they will have a legacy from some 
unheard-of relative, who will suddenly and conveniently die."' 
Also with another writer who says, "one of the most disgust- 
ing sights in this world is that of a young man with healthy 
blood, broad shoulders, presentable calves, and a hundred and 
fifty pounds, more or less, of good bone and muscle, standing 
with his hands in his pockets longing for help." It is told of 
Lord Thurlow, the Chancellor of England, that, on being con- 
sulted by a parent as to the best means his son could adopt to 
secure success at the bar, he thus replied: "Let your son 
spend his own fortune, marry and spend his wife's, and then 
go to the bar; there will be little fear of his failure." It was 
for this reason that Thurlow withheld from Lord Eldon, when 
poor, a commissionership of bankruptcy which he had prom- 
ised him, saying it was a favor to Eldon to withhold it. 
"What he meant," says Eldon, "was, that he had learned (a 
clear truth) that I was by nature very indolent, and it was 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 87 

only want that could make me very industrious." Beethoven 
said of Rossini, that he had the stuff in him to make a good 
musician, if he had only been well flogged when a boy; but he 
was spoiled by the ease with which he composed. Shelley 
tells us of certain poets that they 

"Are cradled into poetry by wrong; 

They learn in suffering what they teach in song." 

A great musician once said concerning a promising but 
passionless cantatrice: " She sings well, but she wants some- 
thing, and iii that something, everything. If I were single, I 
would court her; I would marry her; I would maltreat her; 
I would break her heart; and in six months she would be the 
greatest singer in Europe." 

These, however, are extreme views and extreme cases, and 
while such a course of treatment might be beneficial in some 
cases, it would in as many others prove the opposite. There 
is and must be in the very nature of things a wise limit, a gol- 
den mean, which may be said to constitute the boundary line 
between judicious giving or aiding, and judicious withholding 
of aid. Parents are often blamed for working hard to accu- 
mulate property for their children, and are sometimes called 
their children's worst enemies for so doing, but there are a 
great many heavier curses for children to bear than a " good 
start in the world" through inherited wealth. Sometimes, 
indeed, the proverb holds good that those rich young men who 
begin their fortunes where their fathers leave off, generally 
leave off where their fathers begun. But all rich men's sons 
are not fools or spendthrifts, any more than all poor children 
are bright, energetic, thrifty and saving. The Astor boys 
manage to keep that great estate together and even to increase 
its proportions; ¥m. H. Vanderbilt is no unworthy descen- 
dant of the great Commodore, and so in hundreds of similar 
instances. In fact, take the country through, the large accu- 
mulations of property, as a rule, continue in the same family 
through successive generations; the father handing it over to 
the children, and they in turn preserving it, if not adding to 



88 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

it, for the next generation, and so on. Of course, there are 
exceptions to this rule, as to all rules, but these exceptions are 
no more numerous among the rich than among the poor. A 
far greater number of poor children turn out bad, than rich 
ones, according to the size of the respective classes. In nine- 
ty-nine cases out of a hundred, it is more of a misfortune 
than a blessing to be poor. 

But this is not saying that poor young men can do nothing, 
because they are poor, or because they have no one to help 
them — far from it. Many of the great names in history, 
many of the world's greatest heroes and benefactors have been 
men of humble parentage "whose cradles were rocked in 
lowly cottages, and who buffeted the billows of fate without 
dependence, save upon the mercy of God and their own ener- 
gies." Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton used to say that "no man 
ought to be convinced by anything short of absolute failure, 
that he is not meant to do much for the honor of God and the 
good of mankind." Neither has any man, young or old, a 
right to be discouraged on account of adverse circumstances 
or feeble abilities. Every giant oak in the forest was once con- 
tained in a little acorn, and was kicked about by the feet of 
passing swine. Mohammed who founded a new religion and 
changed the face of empires, was an orphan at eight, and 
afterwards a camel-driver. Pope Gregory YII., was a carpen- 
ter's son ; Copernicus, who introduced the modern system of 
astronomy, was the son of a baker; Kepler, hardly less dis- 
tinguished, was a waiter-boy in a hotel kept by his father. 

In England, Captain Cook, the famous navigator, James 
Brindley the first man who devoted himself to civil engineering 
as a profession, and the originator of the canal system, and 
Robert Burns, the poet, belonged all of them to the class of 
common day-laborers. Masons and bricklayers can boast of 
Ben Jonson, who worked at the building of Lincoln's Inn 
with a trowel in his hand and a book in his pocket, Edwards 
and Telford the engineers, Hugh Miller the geologist, and Al- 
lan Cunningham the writer and sculptor; whilst among dis- 
tinguished carpenters we find the names of Inigo Jones the 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 89 

architect, Harrison the chronometer-maker, John Hunter the 
physiologist, Ronmey and Opie the painters, Professor Lee 
the Orientalist, and John Gibson the sculptor. From the 
weaver class have sprung Simpson the mathematician, Ba- 
con the sculptor, the two Milners, Adam Walker, John Foster, 
Wilson the ornithologist, Dr. Livingstone the missionary trav- 
eler. Shoemakers have given us Sir Cloudesley Shovel the 
great Admiral, Sturgeon the electrician, Samuel Drew the 
essayist, Gifford the editor of the "Quarterly Review," Bloom- 
field the poet, and William Carey the missionary; while 
Morrison, another laborious missionary, was a maker of shoe- 
lasts. 

Cardinal Wolsey, Daniel Defoe, the writer, Akenside and 
Kirke White, poets, were sons of butchers; the immortal Bun- 
yan was a tinker. Newcomen, Watt, and Stephenson, names 
connected with the invention and perfecting of the steam-en- 
gine, were all of poor and humble origin like the others, 
— the first a blacksmith, the second a maker of mathemat- 
ical instruments, and the third an engine-fireman. John 
Bewick, the father of wood engraving, was a coal-miner, Baf- 
fin, discoverer of "Baffin's Bay," began his seafaring career as 
a man before the mast, and Sir Cloudesley Shovel as a cabin- 
boy. Herschel played the oboe in a military band. Chan trey 
was a journeyman carver, Etty a journeyman printer, and Sir 
Thomas Lawrence the son of a tavern-keeper. Michael Far- 
aday, the son of a poor blacksmith, was in early life apprenticed 
to a book-binder, and worked at that trade until he reached his 
twenty-second year; he now occupies the very first rank as a 
philosopher, excelling even his master, Sir Humphrey Davy, 
in the art of lucidly expounding the most difficult and abstruse 
points in natural science. 

Drawing nearer home, look at the early life of Andrew Jack- 
son whose soubriquet of " Old Hickory" is still so potent w T ith 
large numbers of his countrymen. His father, after whom 
Andrew was named, emigrated to Eorth Carolina in 1765, and 
died five days after his son's birth. The mother, with her 
babe and two other children, then moved into a destitute por- 



90 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

tion of South Carolina where Andrew's boyhood was passed. 
Their means were slender. When the Revolution broke out 
the oldest boy enlisted and was killed. At the age of thirteen, 
Andrew with his brother Robert joined a corps of volunteers 
attached to General Sumter's brigade. 

In the next year, 1781, both the boys were captured by a 
party of dragoons. Andrew was ordered by a Tory officer to 
clean a pair of muddy boots, but proudly refused, whereupon 
the officer aimed a sword-stroke at his head, which the boy 
parried, and thereby received a w r ound upon the hand which 
he bore for life. His brother was ordered to do the same thing 
for another officer, and for his refusal actually received a sword- 
cut upon the head from which he never recovered. In the 
prison at Camden, the boys suffered severely from their un- 
dressed wounds, and also from small-pox which raged among 
the prisoners. When at length they were exchanged w r ith five 
neighbors and given to their mother, they were little more than 
mere wrecks. From the prison to their home was a distance 
of forty miles, and there were but two horses for the whole 
party. On one, without saddle or bridle, Mrs. Jackson rode, 
and on the other the weak and wounded Robert was borne; 
young Andrew, barefooted, half-naked and half-sick with the 
small-pox, trudging the whole distance on foot. A heavy rain 
set in and drenched the party to the skin, and drove the disease 
back again into the systems of the two boys. Two days after,. 
Robert died, and Andrew hung upon the brink of death for two 
w T eeks. After his recovery, his mother died, and then the sev- 
enth President of the United States was left alone upon the 
earth, penniless and friendless. 

For a time he became reckless and dissipated, but in his 
eighteenth year he suddenly changed his course of life and 
commenced to study law at Salisbury, N. C. Two .years after 
he was licensed to practice and received from the Governor of 
the State, without asking, the appointment of solicitor for the 
western district, embracing the present State of Tennessee. 
In the spring of 1788, at just twenty-one } 7 ears of age, he 
crossed the mountains to his new home, and as the country 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 91 

was wild and unsettled, he immediately engaged in bloody 
warfare with the fierce savage. His subsequent history has 
become part and parcel of the national record. He settled at 
Nashville, married a beautiful woman, went to Congress, and 
from thence on, step by step, until he was seated in the Presi- 
dential chair and had his name enrolled among the world's 
great men. 

Surely no boy or young man in these days could have a 
harder time getting started in life than did young Jackson. 
His success was owing to several causes, but chiefly to his own 
determination, courage, pluck, ability and will. His extreme 
youthfulness while passing through that series of trials was 
much in his favor, as boys usually recover from the stunning 
effect of such blows much easier and quicker than maturer 
minds. His first appointment from the Governor and his well- 
chosen marriage, also, were events greatly in his favor and 
helped him much; .but after that, Andrew Jackson depended 
chiefly upon his own resources and powers. 

Generally, as another has said, " our strength is measured 
by our plastic power. From the same materials one man builds 
palaces, another hovels; one warehouses, another villas; bricks 
and mortar are mortar and bricks until the architect makes 
them something else. Thus it is that in the same family, in 
the same circumstances, one man rears a stately edifice, while 
his brother, vacillating and incompetent, lives forever amid 
ruins; the block of granite, which was an obstacle in the path- 
way of the weak, becomes a stepping-stone in the pathway of 
the resolute. The difficulties which utterly dishearten one man 
only stiffens the sinews of another, who looks on them as a 
sort of mental spring-board by which to vault across the gulf 
of failure on to the sure, solid ground of full success." When 
John C. Calhoun was in Yale College he was ridiculed by his 
fellow-students for his intense application to study. " Why, 
sir," he replied, "I am forced to make the most of my time, 
that I may acquit mj^self creditably when in Congress." A 
laugh followed, when he exclaimed, "Do you doubt it? I 
assure you, if I were not convinced of my ability to reach the 



92 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

national capital as a representative within the next three years, 
I would leave college this very day ! " 

Therefore instead of being one of the "foiled potentialities" 
•or possibilities of which the world is so full; instead of being 
merely a " subjunctive hero " who always might, could, would, 
or should do ^reat things, but whose not doing great things is 
what nobody can understand, let every man be in the impera- 
tive mood, and do that of which his talents are indicative. If 
this lesson of self-help is once learned and acted on, every man 
will be able to discover within himself, under God, the ele- 
ments and capacities of usefulness and honor. 

INDEPENDENCE OF THOUGHT. 

Thus far in this chapter we have spoken of self-help in its 
relation to pecuniary aid, but another question, closely akin to 
that, is, how far should one depend upon himself for those 
ideas, principles, and maxims of wisdom by which conduct is 
governed? Lessing, the great German philosopher and author, 
used to say, "Think wrongly if you please, but think for your- 
self." This advice, to say the least, needs a little explanation 
and modification before it should be accepted as the utterance 
of final wisdom. To a certain extent, or rather after the age 
of maturity has been reached, one should learn to think for 
himself, and learn to be guided by his own conclusions; 
but before this can be done with entire safety, one must learn 
to think correctly and reason soundly. While a too great in- 
tellectual dependence on the one hand is productive of mental 
weakness and servility, a too great intellectual confidence on 
the other, is sure to lead into rashness and folly. 

It would be dangerous advice to give any young man, to 
say, "Think for yourself and follow out your own ideas, right 
or wrong;" for one of the most besetting sins of a youthful 
mind is that of ignoring the past and rejecting the counsels of 
the aged. Every man who has reached the age of forty can look 
back and see how foolish and rash and headstrong he was when 
the hot, wild impulses of youth and early manhood were burn- 
ing like fire in his heart and bones; when he felt he could do 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 95 

anything, and knew as well what was good for him as those by 
whom he was surrounded. Where a man is confident at twenty, 
he is quite likely to be cautious at forty; where he was sure 
he was right at twenty-five, he is more than likely to be mis- 
trustful and timid at forty-five or fifty. One difficulty about 
over-confidence with immature minds in early life, is, that 
they are very liable to mistake imaginings and fancies for 
sound reasoning and solid fact. Never is the imagination 
more active or more deceptive than in the fresh morning of 
life. This faculty of the mind seems to be the first to develop. 
Even in childhood its power is great, and a little later on it 
becomes well-nigh supreme among the mental forces. And 
very few realize what an arch and gay deceiver this intellectual 
sprite and trickster is among men. Sir Walter Scott exclaims 
in "Kokeby," 

"Woe to the youth whom fancy gains, 
Winning from reason's hand the reins. 

And another old poet adds: 

" Subtle opinion, 
Working in man's decayed faculties, 
Cuts and shapes illusive fantasies ; 
Whereon we ground a thousand lies." 

Then Shakespere culminates the accusation by declaring 
that " the lunatic, the lover, and the poet are of imagination 
all compact." Therefore, when young men and maidens be- 
come susceptible to the influences of the sweet and tender 
passion; when they begin to read (and to write, if they can,) 
sentimental poetry; when the world looks all bright and fasci- 
nating to them; when every povyer of body and mind is in- 
tensely alive and eager for distinction, and the spirit thirsts 
for activity and glory, it will hardly be safe for them to follow 
out blindly their own ideas, or to trust too much to their own 
independent thought and judgment. The advice of older and 
cooler heads should never be contemptously thrown aside at 
such a period of life. 

There comes a time, however, sooner or later in human ex- 



94 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

perience, when all persons are compelled to think and act for 
themselves. We are not advocating abject intellectual sub- 
serviency as the greatest good, neither would we recommend 
a premature self-confidence which almost invariably results in 
the growth of that hideous and poisonous mental fungus, 
known as Self-Conceit. For 

" This self-conceit is a most dangerous elf. 
He who doth trust too much unto himself, 
Can never fail to fall in many snares." 

Indeed, if we were called upon to describe an intellectual 
devil with horns and hoof and tail arrayed, whose very pres- 
ence was like blasting mildew upon the mind and heart, whose 
looks destroyed and whose breath benumbed, we should say 
his name was Self-Conceit. When this habit of mind becomes 
confirmed and settled, the man or woman might as well be 
dead as alive so far as doing good or being successful is con- 
cerned. There is no intellectual disease, no malady of brain, 
to be compared with it for deadliness of nature. It makes 
one disagreeable to all around, it turns him into a laughing- 
stock, it destroys the power of all true thought and right 
action, it creates a false world out of a real one. No man can 
be respected, or be useful, or amount to anything in the world, 
if he bears the character of a conceited coxcomb. Any so- 
called independence of thought, therefore, which leads to this 
evil, we most thoroughly deprecate and abominate. 

But a wholesome fear of this mild form of lunacy need not 
deter any one from trying to the utmost of his capacity to 
be original in thought, and ingenious in methods and aims. 
It need not and must not lead any one to be afraid to think 
for himself, or to seek to carry out his ideas in all legiti- 
mate ways, and to a reasonable extent. Indeed, after one has 
thoroughly and conscientiously endeavored by all means within 
his reach to ascertain the absolute truth and the best possible 
way, he must then be true to his own matured convictions and 
ideas, whether these prove to be in harmony with the convic- 
tions and ideas of others or not. But there is a world of 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 95 

difference between being rash, headstrong, self-conceited, up- 
pish and indolent, and being firm, intelligent, thoughtful, 
persistent, ingenious and wise. 

We also recognize that this age of the world is in many re- 
spects unlike past ages, and calls for different measures and 
plans. The world is rushing on at a fearful rate of speed, and 
he who would keep up with his fellows must learn to think 
quickly, be fertile in expedient, be shrewd, active and wise, 
and able to travel fast. We fully coincide with Dr. Mathews 
when he says : " The days when a man could get rich by plod- 
ding on, without enterprise and without taxing his brains, 
have gone by. Mere industry and economy are not enough; 
there must be intelligence and original thought. Quick-witted 
Jacks always get ahead of the slow-witted giants. Whatever 
your calling, inventiveness, adaptability, promptness of de- 
cision must direct and utilize your force; and if you cannot 
find markets you must make them. Tn business, you need 
not know many books, but you must know your trade and 
men; you may be slow at logic, but you must dart at a chance 
like a robin at a worm. You may stick to your groove in 
politics and religion; but in your business you must switch 
into new tracks, and shape yourself to every exigency. Every 
calling is filled with bold, keen, subtle-witted men, fertile in 
expedients and devices, who are perpetually inventing new 
ways of buying cheaply, underselling, or attracting custom; 
and the man who sticks doggedly to the old-fashioned methods 
— who runs in a perpetual rut — will find himself outstripped 
in the race of life, if he is not stranded on the sands of popu- 
lar indifference. Keep, then, your eyes open and your wits 
about you, and you may distance all competitors; but ignore 
all new methods, and you will find yourself like a lugger con- 
tending with an ocean racer." 

Again, he is right when he says that "we are not the only 
people who run everything into the ground, but we certainly 
do it more generally, and with greater rapidity than any other 
nation on the globe. No matter what branch of business is 
started, — from the manufacture of pills or matches to that of 



96 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

sewing-machines or watches, from the ice-trade to the traffic in 
guano or Japanese goods, — the moment any business is dis- 
covered to be profitable, it is rushed into by thousands and tens 
of thousands, till a reaction follows, and it is ruined." These 
facts call for the formation and exercise of a strong individu- 
ality of character, and for true independence of thought and 
act, but they need not and must not make a man crazy or 
foolish through over self-confidence or disgusting conceit in 
opinion. 

The present age is also an age of advertising, pre-eminently, 
and it is a profitable and interesting inquiry to know how far 
one should seek to advertise his own ability and skill. One 
thing is certain, there must be no false modesty in him who 
would be successful, and at the same time there need be no 
display of excessive impudence and brazen-faced boldness. 
True courage in character is a far different article from either 
of these. There is, as has been well said, a happy medium be- 
tween the two extremes; between the "noisy, blatant preten- 
sion that is forever stunning us with proclamations of its own 
ability, and that excessive humility which strips itself of all 
real merits and shrinks into a corner frightened at its own 
shadow. This medium, although somewhat difficult to de- 
scribe, is not impossible to realize in practice, and at this every 
one should aim. Because there is danger of invoicing your- 
self above your real value, it does not follow that you should 
always be underrating your own worth. The great mass of 
men have no time to examine the merits of others. They are 
busy about their own affairs, which claim all their attention. 
They cannot go about hunting for modest worth in every nook 
and corner; those who would get their good opinion must 
come forward with their claims, and at least show their own 
confidence in them by backing them with vigorous assertion." 

The different ways and methods of self-advertising practiced 
in these times, are legion. Some of them are ingenious to 
the last degree, displaying great tact and talent on the part of 
those wishing to get notoriety, and through that to attract 
custom to business, get a living and, perhaps, make money. 



SUCCESS IJS business life. 97 

We refer now, not to the lawful and legitimate advertising of 
goods in mercantile life — this is not only right in itself, but 
something that must be done as a ma.tter of business policy. 
But we are speaking of advertising self, not goods, and one 
method which is sometimes restored to is happily hit off in 
the following sketch: "There are two rival doctors in town, 
equal in learning and skill, and who have just begun their 
professional careers. Dr. Easy puts his card on his door and 
in the newspapers, and then sits down in his office and waits 
patiently for patients. If, fortunately, somebody is good 
enough to break a leg or to be seized with the cholera at his 
very door, he secures a customer; otherwise he may spend 
years in putting knowledge into his head by study, before he 
will put any money into his purse. K"ot so with Dr. Push. 
He has a mean opinion of the passive system, puts up a stun- 
ning brass plate on his door, gets himself puffed in the newspa- 
pers, dresses in the height of the fashion, talks learnedly, looks 
wise, and keeps a " two-forty" horse and carriage, before he 
has a visit to make. He hires persons to startle his neighbors 
at midnight with the peals of his bell; is continually called 
out of church; and* more than once, has his name shouted, as 
being instantly wanted, while attending a concert or lecture 
at the Academy of Music. Instead of sitting down in his 
office and dozing over Brodie and Magendie, he scours the 
streets and the whole adjoining country with his carriage, 
driving from morning till night at a killing pace, as if life 
and death hung on his steps; and, neglecting no form of ad- 
vertisement, is probably making two thousand dollars a year 
before Dr. Easy has heard the rap of his first patient." 

This kind of sharp practice will sometimes succeed and 
sometimes fail. If it wins, the man's fortune is thereby ad- 
vanced for the time being, but if it is exposed, the man will 
very likely be obliged to leave town and try again in another 
locality more favorably conditioned for scheming. "Washing- 
ton Irving once said that "a barking dog was often more useful 
than a sleeping lion," and there is some truth in the assertion; 
but, whether useful or not, no man would care to settle down 
permanently in the sphere jor character of a barking dog. 



98 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



CHAPTEK YIL 

The Spikit of Wokk. 

If little labor, little are our gains, 
Man's fortunes are according to his pains. 

KOBERT BlERRICK. 

Better to sink beneath the shock 
Than moulder piecemeal on the rock. 

Byro^. 

Sure, he that made us with such large discourse 
Looking before and after, gave us not 
That capability and godlike reason 
To rust in us unused. 

Shakespere. 

• 

Work for some good, be it ever so slowly; 
Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly ; 
Labor — all labor is pure and hoty. 

Mrs. Osgood. 

HE Marquis de Spinola, one of Spain's greatest gen- 
® erals, asked Sir Horace Vere, an English baron, one 
**^F day, " Pray, sir, of what did your brother (Sir Francis 
Yere, an English, general, who had fought against Spinola in 
the Netherlands) die?" "He died," said Sir Horace, "of 
having nothing to do." "Alas!" said Spinola, u that is 
enough to kill any general of us all." If the Marquis was 
right in his conclusion, then the necessity for labor, imposed 
upon us from the beginning, is not so much a curse as it is a 
blessing. Jeremy Taylor, that good old English divine, wrote: 
"Avoid idleness, and till up all the spaces of thy time with 
severe and useful employment ; for of all employments bodily 

4| 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 99 

labor is the most useful, and of the greatest benefit for driv- 
ing away the devil." Perhaps if the earth had brought forth 
thorns and thistles from the first, and Adam and Eve had been 
put at hard work, instead of down in the midst of a garden, 
with plenty of time and leisure to toy with fruits and flowers 
and vines, they might not have yielded so readily to the voice 
of temptation. But having been ruined through comparative 
ease and idleness, the race were then put at hard work for the 
express purpose of preventing, as far as possible, the recur- 
rence of the evil. 

Accordingly, labor has ever been the indispensable condi- 
tion of success in any and all departments of life. We are 
now pointing out to you, reader, an imperial highway to 
fortune, but we do most earnestly assure you that this high- 
way can never be built without the most unremitting and 
indefatigable exertion on your part. Lazy, shiftless people 
are, as a rule, poor, miserable, and comparatively useless. 
Industry is the price of excellence in everything. They who 
are the most persistent, and work in the truest spirit, will 
invariably be the most successful. Fortune is ever on the 
side of the industrious, as winds and waves are on the side of 
the best navigators. Genius may not be necessary, though 
even genius of the highest sort does not despise the exercise 
•of common qualities. The very greatest men have been 
among the least believers in the power of genius, and were as 
worldly-wise and persevering as the successful men of a com- 
moner sort. Some have even defined genius to be only 
common sense intensified. A distinguished teacher and pres- 
ident of a college spoke of it as the power of making efforts. 
Buffon said of genius — " It is patience." 

Newton's was unquestionably a mind of the very highest 
order, and yet, when asked by what means he had w T orked out 
his extraordinary discoveries, he modestly answered, "By 
always thinking upon them." At another time he thus ex^ 
pressed his method of study : " I keep the subject continually 
before me, and wait till the first dawnings open slowly, by 
little and little, into a full and clear light." In Newton's 



100 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

case as it is in every other, it was only by diligent applica- 
tion and perseverance that a great reputation was achieved^ 
Even his recreation consisted merely in the variety of his 
industry — leaving one subject only to take up another. To 
Dr. Bentley he said : "If I have done the public any service, 
it is due to nothing but industry and patient thought." 

Says a modern writer on this subject : " The extraordinary 
results effected by dint of sheer industry and perseverance, 
have led many distinguished men to doubt whether the gift 
of genius be so exceptional an endowment as it is generally 
supposed to be. Thus Voltaire held that it is only a very 
slight line of separation that divides the man of genius from 
the man of ordinary mold. Locke, Helvetius and DMerot 
believed that all men have an equal aptitude for genius; and 
that what some men are able to effect under the influence of 
the fundamental laws which regulate the march' of intellect,, 
must also be within the reach of others who, in the same 
circumstances, apply themselves to like pursuits. But while 
admitting, to the fullest extent, the wonderful achievements of 
labor, and also recognizing the fact that men of the most 
distinguished genius have invariably been found the most 
indefatigable workers, it must nevertheless be sufficiently 
obvious that, without the original endowment of heart and 
brain, no amount of labor, however well applied, would have 
produced a Shakespere, a Newton, a Beethoven, or a Michael 
Angelo. 

" Dalton, the chemist, always repudiated the notion of his 
being ' a genius,' attributing everything which he had accom- 
plished to simple industry and accumulation. John Hunter 
said of himself: 'My mind is like a bee-hive ; but full as it 
is of buzz and apparent confusion, it is yet full of order, reg- 
ularity and food, collected with incessant industry from the 
choicest stores of nature.' We have, indeed, but to glance at 
the biographies of great men, to find that the most distinguished 
inventors, artists, thinkers, and workers of all sorts, owe their 
success, in a great measure, to their indefatigable industry 
and application. They were men who turned all things to 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 101 

.gold — even time itself. Hence it happens that the men who 
have most moved the world, have not been so much men of 
.genius, strictly so called, as men of intense mediocre abilities, 
untiring workers, persevering, self-reliant, and indefatigable ; 
not so often those gifted with naturally bright and shining qual- 
ities, as those who have applied themselves diligently to their 
work, in whatever line that might lie. A great point to be 
arrived at is to get the working quality well trained. When 
that is done, the rest will be found comparatively easy. We 
must repeat and again repeat: facility will come with labor. 
Not even the simplest art can be accomplished without it." 

As history is philosophy teaching by example, so biography 
furnishes the best illustrations of principle and theory. 
Therefore, to show the reader what has been done by patient 
industry and steadfast application, we will give a number of 
brief sketches of distinguished workers, taken from different 
ranks of life. Sir Robert Peel, one of the most distinguished 
statesmen and Prime Ministers that England ever had, was a 
noted worker. The Peel family rose from humble circum- 
stances to a position of great renown, wholly through the 
power of industry. Sir Robert's grandfather, the first of the 
line, was a small yeoman, living on a poor, sterile farm near 
Blackburn. Finding he could not support his large family 
by farming, he began the business of calico-making. He was, 
an fact, the originator of the process of printing calico by 
machinery. 

It was then customary, in such houses as the Peels, to use 
pewter plates at dinner. Plaving sketched a figure, or pattern, 
on one of the plates, the thought struck him that an impres- 
sion might be got from it in reverse, and printed on calico 
with color. In a cottage at the end of the farm-house, lived 
a woman who kept a calendering machine, and, going into her 
•cottage, he put the plate, with color rubbed into the figured 
part, and some calico over it, through the machine, when it 
was found to leave a satisfactory impression. Such is said to 
have been the origin of roller printing on calico. Robert 
Peel shortly perfected this process, and the first pattern he 



102 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

brought out was a parsley leaf ; hence he is spoken of, in 
the neighborhood of Blackburn, to this day, as "Parsley Peel."' 
The process of calico-printing by what is called the mule 
machine — that is, by means of a wooden cylinder in relief, 
with an engraved copper cylinder — was afterwards brought 
to perfection by one of his sons, the head of the firm of 
Messrs. Peel and Co., of Church, England. 

Sir Robert Peel (the first baronet, and the second manu- 
facturer of the name) inherited all his father's enterprise, 
ability, and industry. His position, at starting in life, was 
little above that of an ordinary workingman; for his father, 
though laying the foundations of future prosperity, was still 
struggling with the difficulties arising from insufficient capi- 
tal. When Pobert was only tw T enty years of age, he deter- 
mined to begin the business of cotton-printing, which he had 
by this time learned with his father, on his own account. 
His uncle, James Haworth,and William Yates of Blackburn, 
joined him in his enterprise ; the whole capital which they 
could raise among them amounting to only about £500, the 
principal part of which was supplied by William Yates. The 
frugal style in which the partners lived may be inferred from 
the following incident in their early career : William Yates, 
being a married man, commenced housekeeping on a small 
scale, and to oblige Peel, who was single, agreed to take him 
as a lodger. The sum which the latter first paid for board 
and lodging w T as Ss. a week ; but Yates, considering this too 
little, insisted on the weekly payment being increased a shil- 
ling, to which Peel at first demurred, and a difference between 
the partners took place, which was eventually compromised 
by the lodger paying an advance of sixpence a week. William 
Yates' eldest child was a girl named Ellen, and she very soon 
became an especial favorite with the young lodger. On 
returning from his hard day's work at "The Ground," he 
would take the little girl upon his knee, and say to her, 
" Nelly, thou bonny little dear, wilt be my wife ? " to which 
the child would readily answer, "Yes," as any child 
would do. " Then I'll wait for thee, Nelly ; I'll wed thee, 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 103 

and none else." And Kobert Peel did wait. As the girl 
grew in beauty toward womanhood, his determination to wait 
for her was strengthened ; and after the lapse of ten years 
— years of close application to business and rapidly increas- 
ing prosperity — Robert Peel married Ellen Yates, when she 
had completed her seventeenth year ; and the pretty child, 
whom her mother's lodger and father's partner had nursed 
upon his knee, became Mrs. Peel, and eventually Lady Peel, 
the mother of the future Prime Minister of England. Lady 
Peel was a noble and beautiful woman, fitted to grace any 
station in life. She possesssed rare powers of mind, and was, 
in every emergency, the high-souled and faithful counsellor 
of. her husband. For many years after their marriage, she 
acted as his amanuensis, conducting the principal part of his 
business correspondence ; for Mr. Peel himself was an indiff- 
erent and almost unintelligible writer. She died in 1803, 
only three years after the Baronetcy was conferred upon her 
husband. 

The third in the line was the statesman and prime minister. 
When a boy at Drayton Manor, his father was accustomed to 
set him up at table to practice extemporaneous speaking; and 
he early accustomed him to repeat as much of the Sunday's 
sermon as he could cany away in his memory. Little prog- 
ress was made at first, but by steady perseverance, the habit of 
attention soon became powerful, and the sermon was at length 
repeated almost verbatim. When afterwards replying in suc- 
cession to the arguments of his parliamentary opponents, — an 
art in which he was perhaps unrivaled, — it was little surmised 
that the extraordinary power of accurate remembrance which 
he displayed on such occasions had been originally acquired 
while under the discipline of his father in the parish church 
of Drayton. He possessed in an extraordinary degree the 
power of continuous intellectual labor, nor did he spare him- 
self. His career, indeed, presented a remarkable example of 
how much a man of comparatively moderate powers can ac- 
complish by means of assiduous application and indefatigable 
industry. During the forty years that he held a seat in Par- 



104: THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

liament, his labors were prodigious. He was a most consci- 
entious man, and whatever he undertook to do, he did thor- 
oughly. All his speeches bear evidence of his careful study 
of eveiy thing that had been spoken or written on the subject 
under consideration. He was elaborate almost to excess ; and 
spared no pains to adapt himself to the various capacities of 
his audience. "Withal, he possessed much practical sagacity, 
great strength of purpose, and power to direct the issues of 
action with steady hand and eye. 

Another example of a similar kind is found in the career 
of Lord Brougham whose indefatigable industry became pro- 
verbial. His public labors extended over a period of upwards 
of sixty years, during which he ranged over many fields, — of 
law, literature, politics, and science, — and achieved distinction 
in them all. How he contrived it, has been to many a mys- 
tery. Once, when Sir Samuel Komilly was requested to 
undertake some new work, he excused himself by saying that 
he had no time; "but," he added, "go with it to that fellow 
Brougham, he seems to have time for everything." The se- 
cret of it was, that he never left a minute unemployed; withal 
he possessed a constitution of iron. When arrived at an age 
at which most men would have retired from the world to en- 
joy their hard-earned leisure, perhaps to doze away their time 
in an easy chair, Lord Brougham commenced and prosecuted 
a series of elaborate investigations into the laws of light, and 
submitted the results to the most scientific audiences that 
Paris and London could muster. About the same time, he 
was passing through the press his admirable sketches of the 
"Men of Science and Literature of the Reign of George III.," 
and taking his full share of law business and political dis- 
cussions in the House of Lords. Sydney Smith once recom- 
mended him to confine himself to only the transaction of so 
much business as three strong men could get through. But 
such was Brougham's love of work, — long become a habit, — 
that no amount of application seems to have been too great 
for him; and such was his love of excellence, that it has been 
said of him, that if his station in life had been only that of a 



SUCCESS IX BUSINESS LIFE. 105 

shoeblack, he would never have rested satisfied until he had 
become the best shoeblack in England. 

Allusion has been made in these pages to James Watt, the 
most conspicuous among the many names connected with the 
development and improvement of the steam-engine. Watt 
was one of the most industrious of men. Even when a boy, 
Watt found science in his toys. The quadrants lying about 
his father's carpenter-shop led him to the study of optics 
and astronomy; his ill health induced him to pry into the se- 
crets of physiologj r ; and his solitary walks through the country 
attracted him to the study of botany, history, and antiquari- 
anism. While carrying on the business of a mathematical 
instrument-maker, he received an order to build an organ; 
and, though without any ear for music, he undertook the study 
of harmonics, and successfully constructed the instrument. 
And, in like manner, when the little model of l^ewcomen's 
steam-engine, belonging to the University of Glasgow, was 
placed in his hands for repair, he forthwith set himself to 
learn all that was then known about heat, evaporation, and 
condensation, — at the same time plodding his way in mechan- 
ics and the science of construction, — the results of which he 
at length embodied in the condensing steam-engine. 

For ten years he went on contriving and inventing, — with 
little hope to cheer him, — with a few friends to encourage him, 
— struggling with difficulties, and earning but a slender living 
at his trade. Even when he had brought his engine into a 
practical working condition, his difficulties seemed to be as far 
from an end as ever; and he could find no capitalist to join 
him in his great undertaking, and bring the invention to a 
successful and practical issue. He went on, meanwhile, earning 
bread for his family by making and selling quadrants, making 
and mending fiddles, flutes, and other musical instruments, 
measuring mason work, surveying roads, superintending the 
-construction of canals, or doing anything that turned up, and 
offered a prospect of honest gain. At length, Watt found a 
fit partner in another eminent leader of industry, — Matthew 
Boulton, of Birmingham; a skillful, energetic, and far-seeing 



106 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

man. who vigorously undertook the enterprise of introducing 
the condensing engine into general use as a working power; 
and the success of both is now a matter of history. 

The person most closely identified with the establishment of 
the cotton manufacture in Great Britian, was Richard Ark- 
wright. His parents w^ere very poor, and he was the youngest 
of thirteen children. He was never at school; the only edu- 
cation he received he gave himself; and to the last hawas only 
able to write with difficulty. When a boy, he was apprenticed 
to a barber, and after learning the business, he set up for him- 
self in Bolton in 1760, occupying an underground cellar, over 
which he pnt up the sign, " Come to the subterraneous bar- 
ber, — he shaves for a penny." The other barbers found their 
customers leaving them, and reduced their prices to his stand- 
ard ; when Arkwright, determined to push his trade, announced 
his determination to give "A clean shave for 'a half-penny." 
After a few years he quitted his cellar, and became an itiner- 
ant dealer in hair. At that time wigs were worn, and this 
was an important branch of the barbering business. He went 
about buying hair, and was accustomed to attend the hiring 
fairs throughout Lancashire resorted to by young women, for 
the purpose of securing their long tresses; and it is said that 
in negotiations of this sort he was very successful. He also 
dealt in a chemical hair-dye, which he used adroitly, and 
.thereby secured a considerable trade. Being of a mechanical 
turn, he devoted a good deal of his spare time to contriving 
models of machines, and, like many self-taught men of the 
same bias, he endeavored to invent perpetual motion. 

He followed his experiments so devotedly that he neglected 
his business, lost the little money he had saved, and was re- 
duced to great poverty. His wife — for he had by this time 
married — was impatient at what she conceived to be a wanton 
waste of time and money, and in a moment of sudden wrath, 
she seized upon and destroyed his models, hoping thus to re- 
move the cause of the family privations. Arkwright was a 
stubborn and enthusiastic man, and being provoked by his 
wife, he never forgave her, and in consequence they separated. 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 107 

Later, the idea of spinning by rollers was communicated to 
him, and he at once set about the construction of a machine 
to carry the idea into practice, but after completing and ex- 
hibiting it, he was compelled to change his residence on 
account of the ignorant hostility of the work-people in the 
town. lie went accordingly to Nottingham, where he applied 
to some of the local bankers for pecuniary assistance; and the 
Messrs. Wright consented to advance him a sum of money on 
condition of sharing in the profits of the invention. The 
machine, however, not being perfected as soon as they had 
anticipated, the bankers recommended Arkwright to apply to 
Messrs. Strutt and Need, the former of whom was the ingen- 
ious inventor and patentee of the stocking frame. Mr. Strutt 
was quick to perceive the merits of the invention, and a part- 
nership was entered into with Arkwright, whose road to 
fortune was now clear. The patent was secured in the name 
of " Richard Arkwright, of Nottingham, clock-maker," and it 
is a remarkable fact, that it was taken out in 1769, the very 
same year in which Watt secured the patent for his steam- 
engine. A cotton-mill was first erected at Nottingham, driven 
by horses; and another was shortly after built, on a much 
larger scale, at Cromford, in Derbyshire, turned by a water- 
wheel, from which circumstance the spinning-machine came 
to be called the water-frame. 

Arkwright was a tremendous worker and a man of marvel- 
ous energy, ardor, and application in business. At one period 
of his life he was usually engaged in the severe and continuous 
labors involved by the organization and conduct of his numer- 
ous manufactories, from four in the morning until nine at 
night. At fifty years of age he set to work to learn English 
grammar, and to improve himself in writing and orthography. 
When he traveled, to save time, he went at great speed, drawn 
by four horses. Be it for good or for evil, Arkwright was the 
founder in England of the modern factory system. 

Dr. John Hunter, one of the most remarkable men of his 
own or any other age, was an anatomist and a surgeon, whose 
improvements in his chosen line of work laid the foundation 



108 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

for all progress made since his day. His career furnishes an- 
other example of the power of patient industry. lie received 
little or no education till he was about twenty years of age, 
and it was with difficulty that he learned to read and write. 
Pie worked for some years as a common carpenter at Glasgow, 
after which he joined his brother "William, settled in London 
as a lecturer and anatomical demonstrator. John entered his 
dissecting room as an assistant, but soon shot ahead of his 
brother, partly by virtue of his great natural ability, but 
mainly by reason of his patient application and indefatigable 
industry. He was one of the first in this country to devote 
himself assiduously to the study of comparative anatomy, and 
the objects he dissected and collected took the eminent Pro- 
fessor Owen no less than ten years to arrange. The collection 
contains some twenty thousand specimens, and is the most 
precious treasure of the kind that has ever been accumulated 
by the industry of one man. Hunter used to spend every 
morning from sunrise till eight o'clock in his museum; and 
throughout the day he carried on his extensive private prac- 
tice, performed his laborious duties as surgeon to St. George's 
Hospital, and deputy surgeon -general to the army; delivered 
lectures to the students, and superintended a school of practi- 
cal anatomy at his own house; finding leisure, amidst all, for 
elaborate experiments on the animal economy, and the compo- 
sition of various works of great scientific importance. To 
find time for this gigantic amount of work, he allowed him- 
self only four hours of sleep at night, and an hour after dinner. 
When once asked what method he had adopted to insure suc- 
cess in his undertakings, he replied, u My rule is, deliberately to 
consider, before I commence, whether the thing be practicable. 
If it be not practicable, I do not attempt it. If it be practi- 
cable, I can accomplish it if I give sufficient pains to it; and 
having begun, I never stop till the thing is done. To this rule 
I owe all my success." 

Equally valuable is the example of the immortal Dr. Ed- 
ward Jenner, the discoverer of vaccination as a preventitive of 
small-pox. This terrible disease had raged for a long time 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 109 

and there seemed to be no way of arresting its violence. Jen- 
ner was a youth, pursuing his studies at Sudbury, when his 
attention was arrested by the casual observation made by a 
country girl who came to his master's shop for advice. The 
small-pox was mentioned, when the girl said, " I can't take 
that disease, for I have had cow-pox." The observation im- 
mediately riveted Jenner's attention, and he forthwith set 
about inquiring and making observations on the subject. His 
professional friends, to whom he mentioned his views as to 
the prophylactic virtues of cow-pox, laughed at him, and even 
threatened to expel him from their society, if he persisted in- 
harassing them with the subject. In London he was so for- 
tunate as to study under John Hunter, to whom he communi- 
cated his views. The advice of the great anatomist was 
thoroughly characteristic: "Don't think, but try\ be patient, 
be accurate." Jenner's courage was greatly supported by the 
advice, which conveyed to him the true art of philosophical 
investigation. He went back to the country to practice his 
profession, and carefully to make observations and experiments, 
which he continued to pursue for a period of twenty years. 
His faith in his discovery was so implicit that he vaccinated 
his own son on three several occasions. At length he pub- 
lished his views in a quarto of about seventy pages, in which 
he gave the details of twenty-three cases of successful vaccin- 
ation of individuals, to whom it was found afterwards impos- 
sible to communicate the small-pox either by contagion or 
inoculation. It was in 1798 that this treatise was published; 
though he had been working out his ideas as long before as 
1775, when they began to assume a definite form. 

How was the discovery received? First with indifference, 
then with active hostility. He proceeded to London to exhibit 
to the profession the process of vaccination and its successful 
results ; but not a single doctor could be got to make a trial of 
it, and after fruitlessly waiting for nearly three months, Jenner 
returned to his native village. He was even caricatured and 
abused for his attempt to "bestialize" his species by the in- 
troduction into their systems of diseased matter from the cow's- 



110 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

udder. Cobbett was one of the most furious assailants. Vac- 
cination was denounced from the pulpit as "diabolical." It 
was averred that vaccinated children became " ox-faced," that 
abscesses broke out to "indicate sprouting horns," and that 
the countenance was gradually " transmitted into the visage of 
a cow, the voice into the bellowing of bulls." Vaccination, 
however, was a truth, and notwithstanding the violence of the 
opposition, belief in it spread slowly. In one village, where 
a gentleman tried to introduce the practice, the first persons 
who permitted themselves to be vaccinated were absolutely 
pelted, and were driven into their houses if they appeared out 
of doors. Two ladies of title, — Lady Ducie and the Countess 
of Berkeley, — to their honor be it remembered, — had the 
courage to vaccinate their own children; and the prejudices of 
the day were at once broken through. The medical profession 
gradually came round, and there were several who even sought 
to rob Dr. Jenner of the merit of the discovery, when its vast 
importance came to be recognized. Jenner's cause at last tri- 
umphed, and he was publicly honored and rewarded. 

He was invited to settle in London and told that he might 
easily command a practice of £10,000 a year. His answer 
was: "]N"o ! In the morning of my days I sought the sequest- 
ered and lowly paths of life, and now in the evening, it is not 
meet for me to hold myself up as an object for fortune and 
fame." During Jenner's lifetime the practice of vaccination 
had been adopted all over the civilized world, and when he 
died his title as Benefactor of his kind was recognized far and 
wide. Cuvier said: "If this had been the only discovery of 
the epoch, it would have made it illustrious forever." 

Sir Joshua Reynolds was such a believer in the force of in- 
dustry, that he held that " excellence in art, however expressed 
by genius, taste, or the gift of heaven, may be acquired." 
Writing to Barry he said, "Whoever is resolved to excel in 
painting, or indeed any other art, must bring all his mind to 
bear upon that one object from the moment that he rises till 
he goes to bed." And on another occasion he said, "Those 
who are resolved to excel must go to their work, willing or 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 1 1 1 

unwilling, morning, noon, and night; they will find it no play, 
but very hard labor. And the lives of great artists go to show 
that the most of them had to force their way upward in the 
face of manifold obstructions. Their success was achieved by 
no luck or chance but by sheer hard work. 

Like Reynolds, Michael Angelo was also a believer in the 
power of labor. He was himself one of the greatest of work- 
ers and attributed (though with doubtful correctness) his power 
of studying for a greater number of hours than others to his 
spare habits of living. A little bread and wine was all he re- 
quired for the chief part of the day when employed at his 
work ; and very frequently he rose in the middle of the night 
to resume his labors. On these occasions, it was his practice 
to fix the candle, by the light of which he worked, on. the 
summit of a pasteboard cap which he wore. Sometimes he 
was too wearied to undress, and he slept in his clothes, ready 
to spring to his work so soon as refreshed by sleep. He had a 
favorite device of an old man in a go-cart, with an hour glass 
upon it bearing the inscription, " Still I am learning!" 

Titian, also, was an indefatigable worker. His celebrated 
"Pietro Martyre" was eight years in hand, and his "Last 
Supper" seven. In his letter to Charles Y. he said, "I send 
your Majesty the 'Last Supper ' after working at it almost daily 
for seven years." Lew think of the patient labor and long 
training involved in the greatest works of the artist. They 
seem easy and quickly accomplished, yet with how great diffi- 
culty has this ease been acquired. " You charge me fifty se- 
quins," said the Yenetian nobleman to the sculptor ; "for a 
bust that cost you only ten days' labor." "You forget," said 
the artist, " that I have been thirty years learning to make 
that bust in ten days." Once when Domenichino was blamed 
for his slowness in finishing a picture which was bespoken, he 
made answer, "I am continually painting it within myself." 
It was eminently characteristic of the industry of the late Sir 
Augustus Callcott, that he made not fewer than forty separate 
sketches in the composition of his famous picture of "Roch- 
ester." It may seem a simple affair to play upon a violin; yet 



112 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

what a long and laborious practice it requires! Giardini said 
to a youth who asked him how long it would take to learn it, 
"Twelve hours a day for twenty years together." 

The same honest and persistent industry was throughout dis- 
tinctive of the career of David Wilkie. The son of a poor 
Scotch minister, he gave early indications of an artistic turn; 
and though he was a negligent and inapt scholar, he was a 
sedulous drawer of faces and figures. A silent boy, he already 
displayed that quiet, concentrated energy of character which 
distinguished him through life. He was always on the look- 
out for an opportunity to draw, — and the walls of the manse, 
or the smooth sand by the river side, came alike convenient for 
his purpose. But his progress was slow. He displayed none 
of the eccentric humor and fitful application of many youths 
who conceive themselves geniuses, but kept up the routine of 
steady application to such an extent that he himself was after- 
wards accustomed to attribute his success to his dogged perse- 
verance rather than to any higher innate power. "The single 
element," he said, "in all the progressive movements of my 
pencil, was persevering industry." The prices which his works 
realized were not great, for he bestowed so much time and la- 
bor upon them, that his earnings continued small for many 
years. Every picture was carefully studied and elaborated be- 
forehand ; nothing was struck off at a heat. Many occupied 
him for years, touching, retouching and improving them until 
they finally passed out of his hands. As with Reynolds, his 
motto was, " Work! work ! work! " and, like him, he expressed 
great olislike for talking artists. Talkers may sow, but the 
silent reap. "Let us be doing something," was his oblique 
mode of rebuking the loquacious and admonishing the idle. 

Among such was his friend Haydon, who was always talk- 
ing so big about high art, but doing so little to advance it. 
Haydon, perhaps, had more of what is called "genius" than 
Wilkie, but he had no persistency, — no work in him. The 
one fitful and irregular in his habits, aimed at an unattainable 
ideal; the other, sedulously cultivating his peculiar and origi- 
nal talent, aimed steadily at the success which was within his 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 113 

reach, and secured it. Haydon's career was both warning and 
example to the gifted. He was one of a numerous class who 
are ready to cry out without sufficient reason against the blind- 
ness and ingratitude of the world. But, as in most of such 
cases, Haydon's worst enemy was himself. Half the time 
spent in working that he spent in complaining, would have 
gone far towards making him the great man that he aimed to 
be. While he went on holding himself forth as a persecuted 
genius, Wilkie, with the simplicity that belongs to true genius, 
made no claim whatever, but worked hard and did his best, 
and the world did not fail to recognize his merits. 

Turner, whom Buskin considers one of England's greatest 
landscape painters, was intended by his father for his own 
trade of a barber, until, one day, a sketch which the boy had 
made for a coat of arms on a silver salver, attracted the notice 
of a customer whom his father was shaving. The man urged 
the father to allow the boy to follow his bias, and he was 
eventually permitted to do so. But, like all young artists, 
Turner had many difficulties to encounter, and they were all 
the greater that Turner's circumstances were so straightened. 
But he was always willing to work, and to take pains with 
his work, no matter how humble the labor might be. He was 
glad to hire himself out at half a crown a night to wash in 
skies in India ink upon other people's drawings, getting his 
supper into the bargain; Thus he earned money and acquired 
expertness. Then he took to illustrating guide-books, alma- 
nacs, and any sort of books that wanted cheap frontispieces. 
" "What could I have done better ? " said he afterwards ; " it 
was first-rate practice." He did everything carefully and 
conscientiously, never slurring over his work because he was 
ill-remunerated for it. He aimed at learning as well as liv- 
ing ; always doing his best, and never leaving a drawing 
without having made a step in advance upon his previous 
work. A man who thus labored was sure to do much ; and 
his advance in power and grasp of thought was, to use Ku»- 
kin's words, "as steady as the increasing light of sunrise." 
But Turner's genius needs no panegyric ; the great works 
8 



114 THE IMPERIAL 'HIGHWAY. 

bequeathed by him to the nation, will ever be his best monu- 
ment and the most lasting memorial of his fame. 

Those of my readers who may have visited the city of Edin- 
burg, Scotland, cannot fail to have noticed the beautiful mon- 
ument erected by the city to the memory of Scotland's great- 
est author, Sir Walter Scott. But few know the touching 
and pathetic career of George Kemp, whose architectural 
genius designed it. He was the son of a poor shepherd who 
pursued his calling on the southern slope of the Pentland 
Hills. Amidst that pastoral solitude the boy had no oppor- 
tunity of enjoying the contemplation of beautiful works of 
art. It happened, however, that in his tenth year he was sent 
on a message to Roslin by the farmer for whom his father 
herded sheep, and the sight of the beautiful castle and chapel 
there, seems to have made a vivid and enduring impression 
on his mind. Probably to enable him to indulge his love 
of architectural construction, the boy besought his father to 
let him be a joiner ; and he was accordingly apprenticed to 
a neighboring village carpenter. Having served his time, he 
went to Galashiels to seek work, doing the journey on foot. 
As he was plodding along the valley of the Tweed, with his 
tools upon his back, a carriage overtook him near Elibank 
Tower ; and the coachman, doubtless at the suggestion of his 
master, who rode inside, having asked the youth how far he 
had to walk, and learning he was on his way to Galashiels, 
invited him to mount the box beside him, and thus to ride 
thither. It turned out that the kindly gentleman inside was 
no other than Sir Walter Scott, then traveling on his official 
duty as Sheriff of Selkirkshire. 

Whilst working at his trade at Galashiels, Kemp had fre- 
quent opportunities of visiting Melrose, Dryburgh and Jed- 
burgh Abbeys, and studying them carefully. Inspired by 
his love of architecture, he next worked his way, as a carpen- 
ter, over the greater part of the north of England, never 
omitting an opportunity of inspecting and making sketches 
of any fine Gothic building. We next find him in Glasgow, 
where he remained four years, studying the fine cathedral 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 115 

there during his spare time. In 1821 he formed the design 
of traveling over Europe, and supporting himself by his 
trade, for the purpose of studying its well-known cathedrals. 
He commenced at Boulogne, and from thence proceeded by 
Abbeville and Beauvais to Paris, spending a few weeks 
making drawings and studies in each place. His skill as a 
mechanic, and especially his knowledge of mill-work, readily 
secured him employment wherever he went, and he was thus 
enabled to choose his site of employment, which was invaria- 
bly in the neighborhood of some fine old Gothic structure, in 
studying which he occupied his leisure hours. 

After a year's working, travel and study abroad, he was 
abruptly summoned home by family affairs, and returned to 
Scotland. He continued his studies and became a proficient 
in drawing and perspective. Melrose was his favorite ruin ; 
and he produced several elaborate drawings of the building, 
one of which, exhibiting it in a " restored ',' state, was after- 
wards engraved. He also obtained some employment as a 
modeler of architectural designs ; and afterwards made draw- 
ings for a work commenced by an Edinburgh engraver, after 
the plan of Britton's " Cathedral Antiquities." This was a 
task most congenial to his tastes, and he labored at it with an 
enthusiasm which ensured its rapid advance ; walking on foot 
for this purpose over half Scotland, and living as an ordinary 
mechanic, whilst executing drawings which would have done 
credit to the greatest masters in the art. The projector of 
the work having died suddenly,* its publication was interfered 
with, and Kemp sought other employment. Few knew of 
the genius of this man — for he was exceedingly taciturn and 
habitually modest — when the Committee of the Scott Mon- 
ument offered a prize for the best design. The competitors 
were numerous, including some of the greatest names in 
classical architecture ; but the design unanimously selected 
was that of George Kemp, then working at Kilwinning 
Abbey, in Ayrshire, many miles off, when the letter reached 
him, intimating the decision of the committee. Poor Kemp! 
Shortly after this event he met an untimely death, and did 



116 THE IMPEKIAL HIGHWAY. 

not live to see the first result of his indefatigable industry and 
self-culture embodied in stone — one of the most beautiful 
and appropriate memorials ever erected to literary genius. 

The same spirit of work, and the same necessity for indus- 
try and application, is found exemplified among the lives of 
musicians. Thus Handel was an indefatigable and constant 
worker ; he was never cast down by defeat, but his energy 
seemed to increase the more that adversity struck him. When 
a prey to his mortifications as an insolvent debtor, he did not 
give way for a moment, but in one year produced his " Saul," 
"Israel," the music for Dryden's " Ode," his "Twelve Grand 
Concertos," and the opera of "Jupiter in Argos," among 
the finest of his works. As his biographer said of him: "He 
braved everything, and, by his unaided self, accomplished the 
work of twelve men." 

Haydn, speaking of his art, said, " It consists it taking up 
a subject and pursuing it." " Work," said Mozart, "is my 
chief pleasure." Beethoven's favorite maxim was, "The bar- 
riers are not erected which can say to aspiring talents and 
industry, ' Thus far and no farther.' " When Moscheles sub- 
mitted his score of "Fidelio," for the piano-forte, to Beethoven, 
the latter found written at the bottom of the last page, " Fin- 
is, with God's help." Beethoven immediately wrote under- 
neath, " O man ! help thyself!" This was the motto of his 
artistic life. John Sebastian Bach said of himself, "I was 
industrious, and whoever is equally sedulous will be equally 
successful." But there is no doubt that Bach was born with 
a passion for music which formed the main-spring of his 
industrj 7 , and was the true secret of his success. When a 
mere youth, his elder brother, wishing to turn his abilities 
in another direction, destroyed a collection of studies which 
the young Sebastian, being denied candles, had copied by 
moonlight ; proving the strong natural bent of the boy's 
genius. Of Meyerbeer, Bayle thus wrote from Milan in 1820 r 
" He is a man of some talent, but no genius ; he lives solita- 
ry, working fifteen hours a day at music." Years passed, 
and Meyerbeer's hard work fully brought out his genius, as 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 117 

displayed in his ■# Roberto," "Huguenots," " Prophete," and 
other works, confessedly amongst the greatest operas which 
have been produced in modern times. 

We have now gone through the leading trades and profes- 
sions of life, and have seen that among mechanics, artists of 
•all kinds, architects and musicians, among great men and 
small men, public men and private men, the same law of 
labor holds good, and that hard work is the price of success 
in each and all. While the idle pass through life leaving as 
little trace of their existence as foam upon the water, or smoke 
upon the air, the industrious stamp their character upon their 
age, and influence all succeeding generations. It has also been i 

O ' OCT 

found that so far from poverty being in itself a positive mis- 
fortune, it may, if it be not so great and long-continued as to 
crush the spirit and put out the light of hope within it, be 
converted into a blessing, rousing a man to that struggle with 
the world which will impart to him strength, confidence and 
triumph. Indeed, biography is all studded o'er with shining 
examples of the power of self-help, patient purpose, resolute 
working, and steadfast integrity. to create and develop truly 
noble and manly characters ; thus exhibiting, in language not 
to be misunderstood, what each can accomplish for himself, 
in providing an honorable competence and an enduring repu- 
tation. 

Ninety per cent, of what men call genius is a talent for 
hard work ; only the remaining tenth is the fancied ability of 
doing things without work. The mere drudgery which some 
men are said to have gone through with in executing their 
plans almost staggers belief. To acquire a polished style, 
Lord Chesterfield for many years wrote down every brilliant 
passage he met with in his reading, and either translated it 
into French, or, if it was in a foreign language, into English. 
A certain eloquence became at last, he says, habitual to him, 
and it would have given him more trouble to express himself 
inelegantly than ever he had taken, to avoid the defect. To 
gain a mastery of language, Lord Chatham not only used to 



118 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

translate Demosthenes into English, but also read Bailey's 
folio dictionary twice through with discriminating attention. 
For 'the same purpose, his son, William Pitt, before he was 
twenty years old, had read the works of nearly all the ancient 
classic authors, many of them aloud, dwelling sometimes for 
hours on striking passages of an orator or historian, noticing 
their turns of expression, and trying to discover the secret of 
their charm or power. The •" silver-tongued " Mansfield not 
only translated all of Cicero's orations into English, but also 
retranslated the English orations into Latin. 

Butler, who exhibits in his " Hudibras " an amount of wit, 
comic illustration, and curious and out-of-the-way learning 
that is absolutely portentous, kept a commonplace-book, in 
which, according to Dr. Johnson, he had deposited for many 
years, not such events or precepts as are gathered by reading, 
but such remarks, similitudes, allusions, assemblages or 
inferences, as occasion prompted or inclination produced — - 
those thoughts which were generated in his own mind, and 
might be usefully applied to some future purpose. " Such,"" 
adds Johnson, " is the labor of those who write for immor- 
tality." Before the great essayist himself began the Ram- 
bler, he had collected in a commonplace-book a great variety 
of hints for essays on different subjects. Addison amassed 
three folios of manuscript materials before he began the 
Spectator. The papers in that periodical, like most essays 
which have survived the changes of time and the caprice of 
fashion, were simply the form which their author chose, to 
impart to the world thoughts which, for the most part, had 
long been shaping and clothing themselves with words in his 
own mind. 

Jean Paul Pichter did the same thing. For years he went 
on reading, studying and observing, making great books of 
extracts for future use, which he called his quarries. These 
note-books contained a kind of repertory of all the sciences ; 
and he also carefully noted down his daily observations of 
living nature. The great Catholic writer, De Maistre, for 
more than thirty years noted down whatever he met with of 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 119 

striking interest in :his reading, accompanying his extracts, 
with comments ; and he also placed in the same " immense 
volumes" those "thoughts of the moment, those sudden 
illuminations, which are extinguished without result, if the 
flash is not made permanent by writing." Hume toiled 
thirteen hours a day while preparing his History of England. 
Lord Bacon, notwithstanding the fertility of his mind, econ- 
omized his thoughts, as the many manuscripts he left, entitled 
" Sudden Thoughts set down for Use," abundantly testify. 
Erskine made numerous extracts from Burke, of whom he 
was an intense admirer ; and Lord Eldon copied Coke upon 
Littleton twice, re-reading that crabbed work till his whole 
mind was saturated with its lore and spirit. Southey was 
unwearied in his efforts to prepare himself to write. Not 
content with a mere reference in a table-book, whenever he 
met with anything available in his reading he marked the 
passage with his pencil, and it was transcribed, docketed, and 
deposited in an array of pigeon-holes. 

Heyne, the great German classicist, shelled the peas for 
his dinner with one hand, while he annotated Tibullus with 
the other. Matthew Hale, while a student of law, studied 
sixteen hours a day. Sir Thomas More, and Bishops Jewell 
and Burnett, began studying every morning at four o'clock ; 
Paley rose at five ; Gibbon was hard at work, the year round, 
at six. Burke was the most laborious and indefatigable of 
human beings ; Pascal killed himself by study, or rather by 
study without exercise ; Cicero narrowly escaped death from 
the same cause ; Hooker, Barrow and Jeremy Taylor were 
industrious scholars ; Milton kept to his books as regularly as 
a merchant or an attorney. u My morning haunts," proudly 
says the latter, in one of the few passages in which he gives 
us a peep into his private life, " are where they should be, at 
home ; not sleeping, or concocting the surfeits of an irregu- 
lar feast, — but up and stirring." 

No man appears to have written with more ease than 
Dickens ; yet a published letter of his shows that when he was 
brooding over a new book his whole soul was "possessed," 



120 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

haunted, spirit-driven by one idea ; and he used to go wan- 
dering about at night into the strangest places, seeking rest, 
and finding none till he was delivered. When that little 
Christmas book, The Chimes, was about to rise from the 
ocean depths of his thought, he shut himself up for a month, 
close and tight, till all his affections and passions got twined 
and knotted up in it, and, long ere he reached the end he be- 
came "haggard as a murderer." It is said that on being 
requested to read at his public recitations a new selection from 
his writings, he replied that he had not time to prepare him- 
self, as he was in the habit of reading a piece once a day for 
six months before reciting it in public. That the author of 
David Copperfield had little faith in improvisations is evident 
from the following golden words : " The one serviceable, safe, 
certain, remunerative, attainable quality in every study and 
every pursuit, is the quality of attention. My own invention 
or imagination, such as it is, I can most truthfully assure you, 
would never have served me as it has but for the habit of 
common-place, humble, patient, daily, toiling, drudging atten- 
tion." 

Addison wore out the patience of his printer. He would 
often stop the press to insert a new preposition. Gibbon 
wrote out his autobiography, a model of its kind, nine times 
before he could satisfy himself. Hazlitt tells us that he was . 
assured by one who knew, that Burke's Letter to a Noble 
Lord, the most rapid, impetuous, glancing and sportive of all 
his works, was returned to the printing office so completely 
blotted over with alterations that the compositors refused to 
correct it as it was, took the whole matter to pieces, and reset 
the copy. Hazlitt himself spen,t so many weary years before 
he could wreak his thoughts upon expression, that he almost 
despaired of ever succeeding as an author. John Foster was 
a most painfully laborious writer. He tells us that in revis- 
ing one of his essays, his principle was to treat no page, sen- 
tence or word with the smallest ceremony, but " to hack, split, 
twist, prune, pull up by the roots, or practice any other sever- 
ity on whatever he did not like." The consequence was 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 121 

<l alterations to the amount, very likely, of several thousands." 
When Chalmers, after a visit to London, was asked what 
Foster was about, he replied, "Hard at it, at the rate of a line 
a week." 

Even the light, facile verse of Tom Moore was the efflores- 
cence of deep strata of erudition ; a quaint piece of learning 
often blossomed into a song, and knowledge gathered out of 
scores of folios bloomed into whole wildernesses of beauty. 
Washington Irving tells us that Moore used to compose his 
poetry while walking up and down a gravel walk in his gar- 
den, and when he had a line, a couplet or a stanza polished to 
his mind, he would go to a little summer-house near by, and 
write it down. Ten lines a day he thought good work, and he 
would keep the little poem by him for weeks, waiting for a 
single word. Some of his broadest squibs cost him whole 
weeks of inquiry. Montesquieu, speaking of one part of his 
writings, said to a friend, " You will read it in a few hours ; 
but I assure you it cost me so- much labor that it has whitened 
my hair." 

The ductility of , language in the hands of Hawthorne sur- 
prises and delights every cultivated reader. But for his lately 
published Note-Books, which betray the secret of his art, — • 
reveal the laws by which his genius wrought, — we might 
fancy him an exception to the rule that intense labor is the 
price of all high excellence. We find him in these not trust- 
ing to inspirations, but day by day, through every month and 
every year, patiently jotting down every random thought that 
chanced to stray into his mind, pinioning every hint in ink, 
securing every fact or fancy that may possibly serve as material 
for or adornment of some future work. Not one of his books 
was flung off from the top of his mind at a white heat. We 
find, on the contrary, that it was by condensing into a chapter 
and sometimes into a sentence, the fruits of months of waiting 
and watching, hints by the wayside and stray suggestions fol- 
lowed up and wrought out, moonlight meditations, and flashes 
of illumination from electric converse with congenial minds, 
that he wove his spells, so weird, so dark, and so potent. 



122 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

It is said that a rival playwright once jeered at Euripides, 
because he had taken three days to compose five lines, whilst 
he had dashed off five hundred in the same time. "Yes," was 
the just retort, "but your five hundred lines in three days will 
be dead and forgotten, whilst my five will live forever." The 
number of hours spent in the manual labor of writing a book 
is no measure of the brain-labor expended in composing it. 
Thoughts, to flow easily, must overflow from a full mind. 
Alonzo Cano, the Spanish sculptor, completed a beautiful 
statue in twenty-five days. When the sordid merchant who 
had employed him wished to pay him by the day, he cried out, 
indignantly, " Wretch ! I have been at work twenty -five years, 
learning to make this statue in twenty-five days." It cannot 
be too often repeated that all extraordinary skill is the result 
of vast preparatory training. Facility of every kind comes by 
labor. Nothing is easy, not even walking or reading, that 
was not difficult at first. 

America has probably produced no greater orator than 
Henry Clay. Though endowed with great natural gifts, he 
was no exception to the rule that orator fit. He attributed 
his success to the one single fact that at the age of twenty- 
seven he began, and continued for years, the practice of daily 
reading and speaking upon the contents of some historical and 
scientific book. " These off-hand efforts," he says, "were 
made sometimes in a cornfield, at others in the forest, and not 
unfrequently in some distant barn, with the horse and ox for 
my auditors. It is to this early practice in the great art of all 
arts that I am indebted for the primary and leading impulses 
that stimulated me forward, and shaped and moulded my sub- 
sequent entire destiny. Improve, then, young gentlemen, the 
superior advantages you here enjoy. Let not a day pass with- 
out exercising your powers of speech. There is no power like 
that of oratory. Caesar controlled men by exciting their fears; 
Cicero, by captivating their affections and swaying their pas- 
sions. The influence of the one perished with its author; that 
of the other continues to this day." Henry Ward Beecher, 
'when a theological student, was drilled incessantly by a skill- 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 123 

fill elocutionist in posturing, gesture, and voice-culture. There 
was a large grove between the seminary and his father's house, 
and it was the habit, he tells us, of his brother Charles and 
himself, and one or two others, to make the night, and even 
the day, hideous with their voices, as they passed backward 
and forward through the wood, exploding all the vowels from 
the bottom to the very top of their voices. It is said that the 
greatest sermon ever preached by Dr. Lyman Beecher, the 
father of Henry, — one of the most powerful pulpit orators in 
America, — was one on "The Government of God." When 
asked, as he descended the pulpit steps, how long it took him 
to prepare that sermon, he replied, "About forty years, sir.'* 
Therefore, reader of these pages, whoever you are, whether 
young or old, if the force and inspiration of all these examples 
are lost upon you, there is little left that can influence or move 
you. You must be either incorrigibly stupid or depraved. 
As you stand and look out into the world, remember there is 
a place for you there, and work for you to do, if you care to 
rouse yourself up and go after it. As an anonymous poet has 
expressed it, 

" There is work for all in this world of ours, 
Ho ! idle dreamers in sunny bowers ; 
Ho! giddy triflers with time and health; 
Ho! covetous hoarders of golden wealth; 
There is work for each, there is work for all, 
In the peasant's cot or baronial hall. 

There is work for the wise and eloquent tongue, 
There is work for the old, there is work for the young ; 
There is work that tasks manhood's strengthened zeal 
For his nature's welfare, his country's weal ; 
There is work that asks woman's gentle hand, 
Her pitying eye, and her accents bland : 
From the uttermost bounds of this earthly ball, 
Is heard the loud cry, ' There is work for all.' " 



124: THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



CHAPTEK YIIL 

Great and Little Things. 

All are needed by each and one ; 
Nothing is fair or good alone. 

R W. Emerson- 

Who does the best his circumstance allows, 
Does well, acts nobly — angels could do no more. 

Edward Young. 

ICHAEL Angelo was one day explaining to a vis- 
itor at his studio what he had been doing at a statue 
since his previous visit. "I have retouched this 
part, polished that, softened this feature, brought out 
that muscle, given some expression to this lip, and 
more energy to that limb." " But these are trifles," 
remarked the visitor. "It may be so," replied the sculptor, 
" but recollect that trifles make perfection, and perfection is no 
trifle." Sedulous attention and painstaking industry always 
mark the true and successful worker. Nicholas Poussin when 
asked by what means he had gained so high a reputation 
among other painters in Italy, replied, " Because I have neg- 
lected nothing." It will be found upon examination that 
many, if not most of the great discoveries of the world have 
resulted in part from the attentive observation of little things. 
Dr. Johnson defined genius to be "a mind of large general 
powers determined in a particular direction." The same bluff 
old doctor once remarked to a fine gentleman who had just 
returned from Italy, that "some men would see and learn more 
in an ordinary stage-ride, than others would in making the 




SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 125 

tour of Europe." Many, before Galileo, bad seen a suspended 
weight swing before their eyes with a measured beat; but he 
was the first to detect the value of the fact. One of the ver- 
gers in the cathedral at Pisa, after replenishing with oil a lamp 
which hung from the roof, left it swinging to and fro; and 
Galileo, then a youth of only eighteen, noting it attentively T 
conceived the idea of applying it to the measurement of time. 
Fifty years of study and labor, however, elapsed before he 
completed the invention of his Pendulum,— an invention, the 
importance of which, in the measurement of time and in as- 
tronomical calculations, can scarcely be overvalued. In like 
manner, Galileo, having casually heard that a Dutch spectacle- 
maker had presented to Count Maurice of Nassau an instru- 
ment by means of which distant objects appeared proximate to 
the beholder, addressed himself to the cause of such a phe- 
nomenon, which led to the invention of the telescope, and thus 
proved the commencement of important astronomical discov- 
eries. 

While Captain (afterwards Sir Samuel) Brown was occupied 
in studying the construction of bridges, with the view of con- 
triving one of a cheap description to be thrown across the 
Tweed, near which he lived, he was walking in his garden one 
dewy autumn morning, when he saw a tiny spider's net sus- 
pended across his path. The idea immediately occurred to 
him, that a bridge of iron ropes or chains might be constructed 
in like manner, and the result was the invention of his Sus- 
pension Bridge. So James Watt, when consulted about the 
mode of carrying water by pipes under the Clyde, along the 
unequal bed of the river, turned his attention one day to the 
shell of a lobster presented at table; and from that model he 
invented an iron tube, which, when laid down, was found effec- 
tually to answer the purpose. Sir Isambert Brunei took his 
first lessons in forming the Thames Tunnel from the tiny ship- 
worm; he saw how the little creature perforated the wood with 
its well-armed head, first in one direction and then in another 
till the archway was complete, and daubed over the roof and 
sides with a kind of varnish; and by copying this work ex- 



126 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

actly on a large scale, Brunei was at length enabled to accom- 
plish his great engineering work. 

It is the close observation of little things, the attention to 
details, which is the secret of success and of greatness in bus- 
iness, in art, in science, and in every pursuit of life. In fact, 
the vast pile of human knowledge is but an accumulation of 
small facts, made by successive generations of men; these little 
bits of knowledge and experience at length growing into a 
mighty pyramid. The huge "chalk cliffs of Albion" were 
built by insects so small as only to be seen by the help of a 
microscope, and so were the coral islands. Christ said to his 
disciples at one time, " gather up the fragments that nothing 
be lost." The best of "Poor Richard's " maxims, perhaps, is 
the one which says, "take care of the pennies, and the dollars 
will take care of themselves." Tho two following stanzas of 
poetry, although " old as the hills " and worn threadbare by 
familiar repetition, are nevertheless as true as when first 
written. 

" Little drops of water, 
Little grains of sand, 
Make the mighty ocean 
And the beauteous land. 

And the little moments, 
Humble though they be, 
Make the mighty ages 
Of Eternity!" 

When Franklin made his discovery of the identity of light- 
ning and electricity, it was sneered at, and people asked, "Of 
what use is it?" To which his apt reply was, "What is the 
use of a child? It may become a man !" When G-alvini dis- 
covered that a frog's leg twitched when placed in contact with 
different metals, it could scarcely have been imagined that so 
apparently insignificant a fact could have led to important re- 
sults. Yet therein lay the germ of the Electric Telegraph, 
which binds the intelligence of continents together. 

The comparative importance of " great and little things," 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 127 

and their mutual reaction upon each other is well set forth in 
the following poem by Charles Mackay. 

A traveler, through a dusty road, 

Strewed acorns on the lea ; 
And one took root and sprouted up 

And grew into a tree. 
Love sought its shade at evening time 

To breathe his early vows ; 
And Age was pleased, in heats of noon, 

To bask beneath its boughs. 
The dormouse loved its dangling twigs, 

The birds sweet music bore ; 
It stood a glory in its place, 

A blessing evermore. 

A little spring had lost its way 

Amid the grass and fern ; 
A passing stranger scooped a well 
, ; Where weary men might turn. 

He walled it in, and hung with care 

A ladle at the brink ; 
He thought not of the deed he did, 

But judged that Toil would drink. 
He passed again — and lo, the well, 

By summers never dried, 
Had cooled ten thousand parching tongues, 

And saved a life beside. 

A dreamer dropped a random thought ; 

' Twas old — and yet ' twas new ; 
A simple fancy of the brain, 

But strong in being true. 
It shone upon a genial mind, 

And lo, its light became 
A lamp of life, a beacon ray, 

A monitory flame. 
The thought was small — its issue great: 

A watch-fire on the hill, 
It sheds its radiance far adown 

And cheers the valley still. 

A nameless man, amid a crowd, 

That thronged the daily mart, 
Let fall a word of hope and love, 

Unstudied, from the heart. 



128 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

A whisper on the tumult thrown, 

A transitory breath, 
It raised a brother from the dust, 

It saved a soul from death. 
O germ ! O fount ! O word of love ! 

O thought at random cast! 
Ye were but little at the first, 

But mighty at the last. 

You go among a certain class of men who are, or wish to be 
considered good business men, and you will find many of them 
professing contempt for what is sometimes termed the " drudg- 
ery of details." But you study the history of bankruptcies 
and failures in business, and you will find a larger number of 
this same class in trouble, than any other. An Eastern mer- 
chant who had amassed a large fortune, when asked to what 
he attributed his success, replied that he had made it a 
point never to neglect the details of his business. Many busi- 
ness men, he added, content themselves with planning; regard- 
ing comprehensive views as imcompatible with scrupulous 
attention to small matters, they leave the execution of their 
schemes to subordinates; and the result is that, in the majority 
of cases, their plans fall through in consequence of the neglect 
of some clerk or other employe, and they remain forever at 
the foot of the ladder. In fact, this attention to the little things 
of business is "an element of effectiveness with which no 
reach of plan, no loftiness of design, no enthusiasm of purpose, 
can dispense. It is this which marks the difference between 
the practical man and the mere dreamer, between a Stephen- 
son who created a working locomotive, and his predecessors 
who merely conceived the idea of it, and could not carry their 
thought into execution." 

There are plenty of people who are ready to talk about and 
even attempt to perform some "big thing," some huge, glori- 
ous, magnificent, colossal enterprise, but when they come right 
down to the small and practical details of the undertaking, oh, 
they are disgusted with everything that looks like drudgery, 
and so turn away. Such men are like Swift's dancing-master 
who had every qualification except that he was lame. In look- 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 129 

ing at the paintings and drawings of the old masters, one 
striking difference between them and the modern style of art 
is their conscientious nicety about little things, the almost 
endless dwelling upon a foot, or a hand, or a face, until it was 
true to nature. Let a lawyer neglect the apparently petty 
circumstances of his case, and he will be almost sure to lose 
it; for some vital fact, perhaps the keystone of the whole, will 
be likely to escape his attention. Let the conveyancer omit 
the details of a deed, — the little words that seem like surplus- 
age,— and he will continually involve- his clients in litigation, 
and often subject them to the loss of their property. The 
difference between first and second class work in every depart- 
ment of labor lies Shiefly in the degrees of care with which the 
minutiae are executed. 

On the other hand, it must not be forgotten that even this 
most excellent virtue can be carried too far, or rather, that 
there must be ability great enough to comprehend larger mat- 
ters conjoined with this talent for details, before the compound 
becomes valuable. As nearly every virtue carried to excess 
becomes a positive vice, so the ability to look after little things, 
unless properly balanced in the mind with other counteracting 
traits, degenerates into mere fussiness or disagreeable particu- 
larity. The venerable maiden aunt, living alone, becomes 
after a time wholly absorbed in attending to trifles, and thus 
unfits herself for ariy larger duties or designs. The same thing 
is true of a miser gathering and counting his gold. We see 
hundreds of men who stop and dally so long over little things 
that they never get on very fast in life's journey. Hence it 
has been well said that really great men exhibit as much abil- 
ity for large matters as small, and for small matters as for 
large; in this respect resembling the power of an elephant who 
can tear a tree up by the roots, or pick up a pin, with equal 
facility. 

It is related of a celebrated New York lawyer that when he 

had a case to argue, his labor on the details was enormous. 

He took it to his bed and board; had inspirations concerning 

it in his sleep; repeatedly arose at night to secure those by 

9 



130 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

Memoranda'; and never ceased to mine and chamber in a great 
case, till it was actually called on the calendar. Then were 
to be seen the equipment and power of a great lawyer. When 
Brunelleschi elaborated the design of that cathedral in Flor- 
ence which was one of the wonders of Italy, he did not content 
himself with leaving the execution of it to others, but per- 
sonally superintended the laying of every brick of the dome. 
Here are instances in which both kinds of this ability coalesced, 
and assisted each other in achieving the result. 

There is no profession which furnishes such opportunities 
for the exercise of both sides of this trait of character as the 
military. A successful general must have an equal talent for 
great and small things. Should he fail on either side, he will 
be a failure as a whole. General McClellan had first-class or- 
ganizing ability, but he lacked the power to execute his plans. 
When he took hold of the "Army of the Potomac" it Was 
in a broken-up and disorganized condition. He looked after 
each regiment, compacted and solidified its separate units, ar- 
ranged the details of camp life, and personally superintended 
each and every department of that large, unwieldy body of 
men, most of whom were at first but raw recruits. It was a 
Herculean task, and right nobly was it performed. But after 
the army Was put in superb condition, he was unable to han- 
dle it effectively, or to hurl it with crushing force against the 
enemy. It was like building a magnificent bridge and then 
not daring to cross it first. As a military commander, Mc- 
Clellan lacked energy, boldness, dash, and far-reaching sagacity. 
He had a good deal of patient courage and scientific skill and 
the power of looking after details, but still there was wanting 
in him those larger requisites of a great military leader. 

In Napoleon, on the other hand, these two traits af charac- 
ter under consideration were happily and powerfully united. 
To a vivid imagination, which enabled him to look along ex- 
tended lines of action, he united the ability to dear with the 
smallest matters essential to Success with almost unerring 
judgment and rapidity. While other generals trusted to sub^ 
ordinates, he gave his personal attention ,to the marching of 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 181 

Lis troops, the commissariat, and other laborious and small 
affairs. His vast and daring plans, it has been truly said, 
would have been visionary in any other man; but out of his 
brain every vision flew a chariot of iron, because it was filled 
up in all the details of execution, to be a solid and compact 
framework in every part. No miserly merchant ever showed 
more exact attention to the pence and farthings, or exhibited 
a more thorough knowledge of the state of his ledger, than 
did the hero of Austerlitz concerning his men, horses, equip- 
ments, and the minute details, as well as the totality, of his 
force. 

We find him directing where horses were to be obtained, 
arranging for an adequate supply of saddles, ordering shoes 
for the soldiers, and specifying the number of rations of bread, 
biscuit, and spirits that were to be brought to camp, or stored 
in magazines for the use of his troops. In one letter he asks 
Ney if he has received the muskets sent to him; in another 
he gives directions to Jerome about the shirts, great-coats, 
clothes, shoes, shakos, and arms to be served out to the Wur- 
temberg regiments; then he informs Darn that the army wants 
shirts, and that they don't come to hand. Again, to the Grand 
Due de Berg he sends a complaint that the men want sabres; 
" send an officer to obtain them at Posen. It is said they also 
want helmets; order that they be made at Ebling." Again he 
writes: "The return which you sent me is not clear. I do 
not see the position of Gen. Gardanne's division, nor his 

force I see companies that do not properly belong to 

the army of Naples. This carelessness will at last derange the 
administration of the army and destroy its discipline. Send 
me perfectly accurate returns." "The returns of my armies," 
says he, in a letter in 1806, "form the most agreeable portion 
of my library." 

The captain who conveyed Napoleon to Elba expressed his 
astonishment at his precise and familiar knowledge of all the 
minute details connected with the ship. Consequently, his 
armies were "only one great engine of desolation, of which 
he was the head or brain. The wheeling of every legion, 



132 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

however remote, the tramp of every foot and the beat of every 
drum were mentally present to him." A striking illustration 
of this is furnished by the campaign of 1805, as described by 
an English writer. In that year Napoleon broke up the great 
camp he had formed on the shores of the Channel, and gave 
orders for that mighty host to defile toward the Danube. 
Vast and various, however, as were the projects fermenting 
in his brain, he did not simply content himself with giving 
the order, and leaving the elaboration of its details to his 
lieutenants. To details and minutiae which inferior captains 
would have deemed too microscopic for their notice, he gave 
such exhaustive attention that, before the «bugle had sounded 
for the march, he had planned the exact route which every 
regiment was to follow, the exact day it was to arrive at each 
station on the road, the exact d&y and hour it was to leave 
that station, as well as the precise moment when it was to 
reach its place of destination. These details, so thoroughly 
premeditated, were carried out to the letter, and the result — 
the fruit of that memorable march — was the victory of 
Austerlitz, which sealed for ten long years the fate of Europe. 

So with our own generals, Sherman and Thomas. The 
correspondence of the former during the late war, published 
by the government, shows that for months and months before 
his "great march" through the South, he was studying the 
country through which he was to go, its resources, its power 
of sustaining, its populousness, the habits of the people, in 
short, everything that could throw light upon the probable 
success of his expedition. He had, in fact, literally gone 
over the entire country in advance. Of General Thomas, his 
comrade Gen. Steadman tells us that he was careful in all 
the details of a battle, but once in the fight was as furious and 
impetuous as Jackson. He imparted great enthusiasm to his 
troops, and could hurl the entire force of his army against 
an enemy with terrific violence. 

Equally, if not more remarkable in the same line of excel- 
lence, was the Duke of Wellington, Napoleon's conqueror at 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 133 

the battle of Waterloo. His business faculty was his genius, 
the genius of common-sense ; and it is not saying too much 
to aver that it was because he was a first-rate man of business 
that he never lost a battle. The Duke began his active mili- 
tary career under the Duke of York and General Walmoden in 
Flanders and Holland, where he learned amidst misfortunes 
and defeats how bad business arrangements and bad general- 
ship serve to ruin the morale of an army. Ten years after 
entering the army we find him a colonel in India, reported 
by his superiors as an officer of indefatigable energy and 
application. He entered into the minutest details of the ser- 
vice, and sought to raise the discipline of his men to the 
highest standard. " The regiment of Colonel Wellesley,": 
wrote General Harris in 1799, "is a model regiment ; on the 
score of soldierly bearing, discipline, instruction and orderly 
behavior it is above all praise." 

Shortly after this event, the opportunity occurred for exhib- 
iting his admirable practical qualities as an administrator. 
Placed in command of an important district immediately after 
the capture of Seringapatam, his first object was to establish 
rigid order and discipline among his own men. Flushed with 
victory, the troops were found riotous and disorderly. '"Send 
me the provost-marshal," said he, "and put him under my 
orders ; till some of the marauders are hung, it is impossible 
to expect order or. safety." This rigid severity of Wellington 
in the field was the salvation of his troops in many campaigns. 

The same attention to, and mastery of details characterized 
him through all his career. He neglected nothing, and atten- 
ded to every important detail of business himself. When he 
found that food for his troops was not to be obtained from 
England, and that he must rely upon his own resources for 
feeding them, he forthwith commenced business as a corn 
merchant on a large scale, in copartnership with the British 
Minister at Lisbon. Commissariat bills were created, with 
which grain was bought in the ports of the Mediterranean 
and in South America. When he had thus filled his maga- 



134 . THIS IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

zincs, the: overplus was sold to the Portugese, who were 
greatly in want of* provisions. He left nothing whatever to 
.chance, but provided for every contingency. He gave his 
attention to the minutest details of the service, and was ac- 
customed to concentrate his whole energies, from time to 
time, on such apparently ignominious matters as soldiers'' 
shoes, camp-kettles, biscuits and horse-fodder. His magnifi- 
cent business qualities were everywhere felt ; and there can 
be no doubt that, by the care with which he provided for 
every contingency, and the personal attention which he gave 
to every detail, he laid the foundations of his great success. 
By such means he transformed an army of raw levies into the 
best soldiers in Europe, with whom he declared it to be pos- 
sible' to go anywhere and do anything. 

Our own Washington was as particular as Wellington in 
matters of business, and did not disdain to scrutinize the 
smallest outgoings of his household, even while holding the 
high office of President. A large manufacturer of Manches- 
ter, England, on retiring from business, purchased a large 
estate from a noble lord ; and it was part of the arrangement 
that he was to take the house, w T ith all its furniture, precisely 
as it stood. On taking possession, however, he found that a 
cabinet which was in the inventory had been removed ; and 
on applying to the former owner about it, the latter said: 
" Wei], I certainly did order it to be removed : but I hardly 
thought you would have cared for so trifling a matter in so 
large a purchase." " My lord," was the characteristic reply, 
" if I had not all my life attended to trifles, I should not have 
been able to purchase this estate ; and, excuse me for saying 
so, perhaps if your lordship had cared more about trifles, you 
might not have had occasion to sell it." 

It was one of the characteristic qualities of Charles James 
Fox that he was thoroughly painstaking in all that he did. 
When appointed Secretary of State, being piqued at some 
observation as to his bad writing, he actually took a writing- 
master, and wrote copies like a school-boy until he had suffi- 
ciently improved himself. Though a corpulent man, he was 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 135 

wonderfully active at picking up cut tennis-balls, and when 
asked how he contrived to do so, he playfully replied, "Because 
I am a very painstaking man." The same accuracy in trifling 
matters was displayed by him in things of greater importance; 
and he acquired his reputation, like the painter, by " neglect- 
ing nothing." 




136 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 




OHAPTEE IX. 

SUCCESSFUL ELEMENTS IN CHARACTER. 

< NUMBER THREE. 

Common Sense. 

Sense is our helmet, wit is but the plume, 
The plume exposes, but the helmet saves. 
Sense is the diamond, weighty, solid, sound ; 
If cut by wit it casts a brighter beam, 
Yet, wit apart, it is a diamond still. 

Edward Young. 

is said that at a gathering in Australia, not long 
since, four persons met, three of whom were shepherds 
• on a sheep-farm. One of these had taken a degree 
at Oxford, another at Cambridge, and the third at a German 
university. The fourth was their employer, a squatter, rich 
in flocks and herds, but scarcely able to read and write, much 
less to keep accounts. This significant incident sets forth 
precisely and forcibly just the difference which often exists 
between the man of sound, sterling, common sense, shrewd 
business capacity and practical talent, and the learned or edu- 
cated fool. We say often exists, because this difference is by 
no means uniform or universal ; if it were, the best thing which 
could be done to promote human welfare on earth, would be 
to abolish at once all the schools and colleges in the universe. 
But we think hardly any one is prepared to say that this aboli- 
tion would be either safe or wise. Education in itself neither 
makes men fools who have good, natural endowments, nor 
does it transform natural idiots into men of first-class ability. 
The difference under consideration, however, is not so much 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 137 

between fools and wise, as between theoretical, idealistic men, 
who have received what is called a liberal education, and 
whose minds are full of abstract, scientific, metaphysical, or 
philosophical knowledge, and uneducated men who are desti- 
tute of all scholastic accomplishments, but who have, instead, 
what is termed good, strong, common sense or natural ability. 
As the world goes, men who have amassed the largest fortunes 
in life, and who have the best judgment in practical matters, 
are not, as a rule, men so profoundly versed in scholastic eru- 
dition. Not many of them received when young anything 
more than the merest rudiments of an education at school, 
but picked up the bulk of their knowledge through wise ob- 
servation and practical experience. On the other hand, but 
few men who have been noted for eminent scholarly attain- 
ments, and whose minds are full of learned lore, gathered from 
the dusty tomes and urns of antiquity, are pre-eminently wise 
or capable in managing the practical affairs of daily life. 
They have greater visionary power than practical sagacity or 
shrewd business tact. They are often men of greater intel- 
lectual ability than those distinguished in the commercial 
world, but their ability does not seem to be of that kind which 
enables a man to hit the mark every time he draws a bow. 
There is a hidden screw loose somewhere in their organization. 
They are continually being involved in unlucky enterprises; 
their plans and calculations miscarry; they fail to make mat- 
ters "go." They are equally industrious, equally careful and 
prudent, equally honorable and upright, but yet, the all-im- 
portant fact remains they do not, and apparently cannot, get 
on in the world. 

On the other hand, the man of sense and tact is one who 
generally succeeds in whatever line of work he takes hold of. 
If he makes a mistake, to which he is as liable as most men, 
he somehow recovers himself, gets on his feet again and goes 
ahead. He is one who knows men and knows how to take ad- 
vantage of circumstances; not in a dishonest way, but in a 
way that turns out to his profit and the furtherance of his 
projects. If he makes a change in his business, he is sure not 



138 .THE: IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

to lose anything by it; and so in one way or the other the 
years, as they roll, push him and his fortunes ever onward. 

A wide-awake Professor in one of our prominent colleges, 
has lately expressed himself upon this subject as follows: 
'f Intellectual culture, if carried beyond a certain point, is too 
often purchased at the expense of .moral vigor. It gives edge 
and splendor to a man, but draws out all his temper. There 
is reason to fear that in the case of not a few persons the mind- 
is so rounded and polished by education, so well balanced, as 
not to be energetic in any One faculty. They become so sym- 
metrical as to have no point; while in other men, not thus 
trained, the sense of deficiency and of the sharp, jagged cor- 
ners of their knowledge lead to efforts to fill up the chasms, 
that render them at last far more learned and better educated 
men than the polished, easy-going graduate who has just 
knowledge enough to prevent consciousness of his ignorance. 
In youth it is not desirable that the mind should be too evenly 
balanced. While all its faculties should be cultivated, it is yet 
desirable that it should have two or three rough-hewn features 
• of massive strength. Young men who spend many years at 
school are too apt to forget the great end of life, which is to 
he and do, not to read and brood over what other men have 
been and done. 

"Many a young man is so exquisitely cultivated as to be good 
for nothing but to be kept in a show-case as a specimen of 
what the most approved systems of education can do. Ralph 
Waldo Emerson tells us that England is filled with a great, 
silent crowd of thoroughbred Grecians, who prune the orations 
and point the pens of great orators and writers (that is, do 
literary work for them), but are indisposed from writing or 
speaking for themselves, by the very fullness of their minds 
and the fastidiousness of their tastes." If such is the case it 
were better to have a mind empty, than to have one so stuffed 
as to be lazy and over-gorged with richness. Better to take 
some intellectual emetic or cathartic and get rid of the stag- 
nating surplus, and so come down to the hard, bed-rock of 
common sense again. Such culture can hardly be called a 



SUCCESS ' '>Ttt ! BUSINESS' 'LIFE.' 139 

blessing. ; It is exactly to : this condition of mind that Shakes- 
pere refers when he speaks of " the native hue of resolution 
being sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought." 

Our Professor says again: " The experience gained from 
books, however valuable, is of the nature of learning; but the 
experience gained from actual life is wisdom; and an ounce 
of the latter is worth a pound of the former. The greatest 
men in the world have not been elegant and polished scholars. 
There were wise men in Europe before there were printed 
books. The men who wrested Magna Charta could not write 
their own names. Bolingbroke, the scholar-statesman, fled 
an exile from England; while Walpole, who scorned literature,, 
held power for thirty years. "In general," says his son, "he 
loved neither reading nor writing." Lord Mahon j us tty ob- 
serves that Walpole's splendid success in life, notwithstand- 
ing his want of learning, may tend; to show what is too com- 
monly forgotten in modern plans of education,; that it is of 
far more importance to have the mind well disciplined than 
richly stored, — strong, rather than full. Brindley and Stephen- 
son did not learn to read and write till they were twenty years 
old; yet the one gave Britain her railways and the other her' 
canals. It has been remarked that Disraeli, whose speeches 
are often a literary luxury, has never laid down a single prin- 
ciple of policy, foreign or domestic, nor brought forward a. 
great measure which was not ignominiously scouted. On the 
other hand, Sir Robert Peel, whose speeches were often the 
heaviest of platitudes, and whose quotations were usually from 
the Eton grammar, reversed his country's financial policy,, 
regenerated Ireland, and died with the blessings of all English- 
men on his head. ; , 

"Every day we see men of high culture distanced in the race 
of life by the upstart who cannot spell, — the practical dunce 
outstripping the theorizing genius. 'Men have ruled well,' 
says Sir Thomas Browne, 'who could not, perhaps, define 
a commonwealth; and they who understand not the globe of 
the earth command a greater part of it.' Charlemagne could 
barely sign his own name; Cromwell was 'inarticulate;'' 



140 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY; 

Macauley's asthmatic hero, William the III, Prince of Orange, 
scarcely possessed a book; and Frederick the Great could not 
spell in any of the three languages which he habitually mis- 
pronounced. Many of our greatest men were born in the back- 
woods; and the strongest hand that has held the helm of our 
government, — a hand that would have throttled secession in 
its cradle, — belonged to one whom his biographer pronounces 
i the most ignorant man in the world.' 

"All experience shows that for worldly success it is far more 
important to have the mind well trained, than rich in the 
spoils of learning. Books, Bacon has well observed, can never 
teach the use of books. It is comparatively easy to be a good 
biographer, but very difficult to live a life worth writing. 
Some of the world's most useful work is done by men who 
cannot tell the chemical composition of the air they breathe 
or the water they drink, and who, like M. Jourdain, daily talk 
nouns, verbs, and adverbs, without knowing it. They know 
nothing of agricultural chemistry, but they can produce sixty 
bushels of corn to the acre. They cannot give a philosophical 
account of the lever, but they know, as well as George Ste- 
phenson, that the shorter the ' bite' of a crowbar the greater 
is the power gained. In short, the crown of all faculties is 
common sense. The secret of success lies in being alive to 
what is going on around one; in adjusting one's self to his 
conditions; in being sympathetic and receptive; in knowing 
what people want, and in saying and doing the right thing, at 
the right place." All this is good. 

It is said that Napoleon used to complain of Laplace, whom 
he made Minister of the Interior, that he was always searching 
after subtleties; that all his ideas were mathematical problems, 
and that he carried the spirit of the infinitesimal calculus 
into the management of his official business. In other words, 
Laplace had talent, but not tact; or, it would be better still to 
say, that he lacked good business sense, and consequently the 
power of adaptation to circumstances. Lord Bacon was a 
mighty genius, in whom reason worked as an instinct, but 
though he was the most sagacious of men in his study, never- 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 141 

theless when he stepped from its "calm, still air" into the 
noisy arena of life, stooped sometimes to actions of which he 
could strikingly have shown the impropriety in a moral essay. 
Addison, it is well known, rose by the force of his own genius 
to be Secretary of State; but, though he had every oppor- 
tunity for qualifying himself for his post, he found himself 
incompetent, and was forced to solicit his dismission with a 
pension of fifteen hundred pounds a year. The fine intellect 
of Cowper could trace with subtlety and truth all the crooks 
and windings of human nature; yet when he came to act for 
himself, he was a sorry bungler, and showed no tact in turn- 
ing his sense and knowledge to practical account. Such were 
his timidity and shyness that he declared any public exhibi- 
tion of himself to be mortal poison to his feelings. Dean 
Swift, the pride of his master at school, was buried in a coun- 
try parsonage at eightscore pounds a year; while Stafford, his 
schoolmate, an impenetrable blockhead, acquired half a million 
of dollars. Dante, boiling with indignation against his ene- 
mies, could curse better than he could conspire. Machiavelli, 
consummate master of all the tricks and stratagems of politics, 
could not get his bread. Corneille did not reserve a crown 
for his old age, and was so miserably poor as to have his stock- 
ings mended at the street- corner. 

Beethoven was so ignorant of finance that he did not know 
enough to cut the coupon from a bond to raise a little money 
instead of selling the entire instrument. He was so unprac- 
tical that, when thirty-seven years old, he sent a friend three 
hundred florins to buy him linen for some shirts and a half- 
dozen pocket-handkerchiefs; and about the same time, when 
he had a little more money than usual, he paid his tailor three 
hundred florins in advance. Often he was compelled to write 
music to meet his daily necessities; and one of the passages of 
his diary is entitled, "Four Evil Days," during which he 
dined on a simple roll of bread and a glass of water. Need 
we add to all these the case of Adam Smith, who taught the 
nations economy, but could not manage the economy of his 
own house? or that of Goldsmith, whose essays teem with the 



142 THE. IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

shrewdest and most exquisite sense, but who never knew the 
value of a dollar; who, though receiving the largest sums for 
his writings, had always his daily bread to earn; who, when he 
sought to take orders, attempted to dazzle his bishop by a pair 
of scarlet breeches; and of whom Johnson said that no man 
was wiser when he had a pen in his hand, or more foolish 
when he had not ? Now, the gift or faculty which all these 
men lacked was just that which every young man must pos- 
sess if he would be a successful man in business pursuits. But 
this gift is not so much a single endowment, we fancy, as it is 
a happy combination of traits and qualities. 

All that class of men who are sometimes called transcenden- 
talists, are aptly described by the Boston merchant who said 
of a certain man, " Oh, he is one of those fellows who have 
soarings after the infinite, and divings after the unfathomable, 
but who never pay cash!" It seems a pity that "deep thinking 
and practical talent should require habits of mind almost en- 
tirely dissimilar, but so it is many times. A man who sees 
limitedly and clearly is both more sure of himself, and is more 
direct in dealing with circumstances and with others, than a 
man with a large horizon of thought, whose many-sided capac- 
ity embraces an immense extent of objects and objections,— 
just as a horse with blinkers chooses his path more surely and 
is less likely to slry. There is no force in mere intellectual 
ability, standing, to use a phrase of Burke, ' in all the naked- 
ness and solitude of metaphysical abstraction.' It is passion 
which is the moving, vitalizing power; and a minimum of 
brains will often achieve more, when fired by a strong will, 
than a vastly larger portion with no energy to set it in motion. 
Practical men cut the knots which they cannot untie, and, over- 
leaping all logical preliminaries, come at once to the conclu- 
sion. Men of genius, on the other hand, are tempted to Waste 
time in meditating and comparing, when they should act in- 
stantaneously and with power. They are apt, too, to give 
unbridled license to their imaginations, and, desiring harmo- 
nious impossibilities, foresee difficulties so clearly that action 
is foregone. In short, they theorize too much. Genius, to be 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 1^6 

useful, must not only have wings to fly, but legs whereon to 
stand." 

Many distinguished men have been found comparatively 
helpless in the conduct of business which demanded the power 
of organizing the labors of other men, and of sagacious dealing 
with the practical affairs of life. Thus Watt hated that jost- 
ling with the world and contact with men of many classes, 
which are usually encountered in the conduct of any extensive 
industrial operation. He declared that he would rather face a 
loaded cannon than settle an account or make a bargain; and 
there is every probability that he would have derived no pe- 
cuniary advantage whatever from his great invention, or been 
able to defend it against the repeated attacks of the mechani- 
cal pirates who fell upon him in Cornwall, London, and Lan- 
cashire, had he not been so fortunate as to meet, at the great 
crisis of his career, with the illustrious Matthew Boulton, 
"the father of Birmingham.'" 

Boulton was a man of essentially different qualities from 
Watt, but quite as able in his own way. He was one of the 
first of the great manufacturing potentates now so numerous 
in the northern and midland counties of England. Boulton's 
commencement in life was humble ; his position being only 
that of a Birmingham button-maker. In his case, as in every 
other, it was not the calling that elevated the man, but the 
man that elevated the calling. He was gifted by nature with 
fine endowments, which he cultivated to the utmost. He 
possessed a genius for business of the highest order ; being 
of sound understanding and quick perception, and prompt to 
carry out the measures which his judgment approved. Hence 
he rarely, if ever, failed ; for his various enterprises, bold 
though they were, were always guided by prudence. lie was 
not a man to drive a wedge the broad end foremost ; because 
he possessed an admirable tact, polished by experience, which 
enabled him unerringly to determine when and how to act. 
With pride he said to Boswell, when visiting Soho, " I sell 
here, sir, what all the world desire to have — power." " He 



144 ■ THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY^ 

had about 700 men at work," continues Boswell, " and I con- 
templated him as an iron chieftain, and a father of the tribe.' % 
Schiller designated the final education of the human race to 
consist in action, conduct, self-culture and self-control ; all 
that tends to discipline a man, and fit him for the proper peiv 
formance of the duties of life ; a kind of education not to be 
learned from books, or acquired by any amount of mere liter- 
ary training. Some have even claimed that a man perfects 
himself by work much more than by reading ; that action 
rather than study, and character rather than biography, tend 
perpetually to renovate mankind. Samuel Smiles, author of 
" Self-Help," says': "The education received at school and 
college is but a beginning, and is mainly valuable in so far as 
it trains us to the habit of continuous application after a defi- 
nite plan and system. Putting ideas into one's head will do 
the head no good, no more than putting things into a bag, 
unless it react upon them, make them its own, and turn 
them to account. 'It is not enough,' said John Locke, ' to 
cram ourselves with a great load of collections ; unless we 
chew them over again, they will not give us strength or nour- 
ishment.' That which is put into us by others is always far 
less ours than that which we acquire by our own diligent and 
persevering effort. Knowledge conquered by labor becomes a 
possession — a property entirely our own. A greater vivid- 
ness and permanency of impression is secured ; and facts thus 
acquired become registered in the mind in a way that mere 
imparted information can never produce. This kind of self- 
culture also calls forth power and cultivates strength. The 
self-solution of one problem helps the mastery of another ; 
and thus knowledge is carried into faculty. Our own active 
effort is the essential thing ; and no facilities, no books, no 
teachers, no amount of lessons learned by rote, will enable us 
to dispense with it. Such a spirit infused into self-culture 
gives birth to a living teaching which inspires with purpose 
the whole man — impressing a distinct stamp upon the mind, 
and actively promoting the formation of principles and habi- 
tudes of conduct. 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 145 

"The best teachers have been prompt to recognize the im- 
portance of self-culture, and of stimulating the student early to 
accustom himself to acquire knowledge by the active exertion 
of his own faculties. - They have relied more upon training 
than upon telling: and sought to make their pupils them- 
selves active parties to the work in which they were engaged; 
thus making learning something far higher than the mere 
passive reception of the scraps and details of knowledge. 
This was the spirit in which the great Dr. Arnold of Rugby 
worked ; he strove to teach his pupils to rely upon themselves, 
and to develop their own powers, while he merely guided, 
directed, stimulated and encouraged them. ' 1 would far 
rather,' he said, ' send a boy to Yan Diemen's land, where he 
must work for his bread, than send him to Oxford to live in 
luxury, without any desire in his mind to avail himself of his 
advantages! ' A great fund of knowledge may be accumula- 
ted without any purpose, and though a source of pleasure to 
the possessor, it may be of little use to any one else. 

"It proves nothing to say that knowledge is power, for so are 
fanaticism, despotism, ambition, and a hundred other equally 
doubtful mental traits and acquisitions. Knowledge of it- 
self, unless wisely directed, might merely make bad men 
more dangerous, and the society in which it was regarded as 
the highest good, little better than Pandemonium. Knowledge 
must be allied to goodness and wisdom, and embodied in up- 
right character, else it is naught. Pestalozzi even held intel- 
lectual training by itself to be pernicious ; insisting that the 
roots of all knowledge must strike and feed in the soil of the 
religious, rightly-governed will. The acquisition of knowledge 
may, it is true, protect a man against the meaner felonies of 
life, but not in any degree against its selfish vices, unless for- 
tified by sound principles and habits. Hence do we find in 
daily life, so many instances of men who are well-informed in 
intellect, but utterly deformed in character ; filled with the 
learning of the schools, yet possessing little practical wisdom, 
and offering examples rather for warning than imitation. 

" It is possible that at this day we may even exaggerate the 
10 



146 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

importance of literary culture. We are apt to imagine that 
because we possess many libraries, institutes, and museums, 
we are making great progress. But it is not improbable that 
such facilities may as often be a hindrance as a help to indi- 
vidual self-culture of the highest kind. The possession of a 
library, or the free use of it, no more constitutes learning, than 
the possession of wealth constitutes generosity. Though we 
undoubtedly possess great facilities, it is nevertheless true, as 
of old, that wisdom and understanding can only become the 
possession of individual men by traveling the old road of ob- 
servation, attention, perseverance and industry. The multi- 
tude of books which modern readers wade through, may 
produce distraction as much as culture; the process leaving no 
more definite impression upon the mind, than gazing through 
the shifting forms in a kaleidoscope does upon the eye. Read- 
ing is often but a mere passive reception of other men's 
thoughts; there being little or no active effort of the mind in 
the transaction. Then how much of our reading is but the 
indulgence of a sort of literary epicurism, or intellectual dram- 
drinking, imparting a grateful excitement for the moment, 
without the slightest effect in improving and enriching the 
mind or building up the character. Thus many indulge them- 
selves in the conceit that they are cultivating their minds, 
when 'they are only employed in the humbler occupation of 
killing time; of which perhaps the best that can be said is, that 
it merely keeps them from doing worse things." 

Still, we do not want the reader to understand that we are 
decrying or ignoring the value of education, study, intellectual 
culture and reading, as means of self-improvement. By no 
means; these aids have done too much good in the world to be 
cuffed aside by any flippant, upstart theory of utilitarianism. 
The Professor and Mr. Smiles, whose views we have quoted, 
write well, and put their points tersely and vigorously, and 
there is much truth in what they say — truth which should be 
pondered deeply by all who expect or hope to build for them- 
selves a highway to success in business life. And we agree 
with them in what they say about the importance of self-cul- 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 14:7 

tu re and of practical ability. - If a man cannot have but one 
endowment, or if he must choose between book-learning and 
common sense, let him choose the latter without a moment's 
hesitation. If a high grade of speculative, metaphysical, or 
literary ability must be placed in competition with the ability 
which enables a man to do business well and successfully, then 
let a man cling to that which is practical and sensible, rather 
than that which is fanciful or theoretical. 

But why cannot a man be a tolerably good scholar, and a 
good practical man at the same time? Every young man can 
make out. of a college course just about what he pleases. If 
he wants to be a self-conceited, shallow-pated fop, obtaining a 
mere smattering of knowledge on a few general topics of cur- 
rent interest, a college is a good place for him to accomplish 
this object. ,On the contrary, if he wants to acquire good, 
valuable information, and train his mind to think consecutively 
and reason logically, a college is just the place to accomplish 
that purpose. Generally, when students turn out bad after 
going through college, the trouble is organic and inherent, 
rather than external and acquired. Education does for native 
talent only what a grindstone does for a scythe. If the scythe 
is made of good steel, grinding brings it to an edge and ena- 
bles it to do more effective work; but if the scythe is good for 
nothing to begin with, the more you grind the duller it be- 
comes. The trouble is in the material, and not in the process 
of sharpening. While a thorough education is never to be 
despised bj one who expects to carve out for himself a high- 
way to fortune, yet no amount of education can supply the 
place of original ability and energy. We say thorough edu- 
cation, because Pope was undoubtedly right when he wrote, 

A little learning is a dangerous thing, 
Drink deep or taste not the Pierian spring : 
These shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, 
But drinking largely sobers us again. 

Again, there are as many narrow-minded men in business, 
as in the schools; as many useless men, lazy men, visionary, 
unpractical men. There is as much good sense among the ed- 



148 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

ucated classes as among the non-educated, and vice versa. As 
Edmund Burke once said, "he had known professional states- 
men to be nothing but peddlers, while merchants had acted 
with the comprehensive spirit of statesmen," so all have seen 
instances of men of genius who were totally unfitted for busi- 
ness pursuits. But there have been others who were great 
writers and thinkers, and at the same time men of practical 
talent. For example: Shakespere was not only the king of 
dramatists, but also the successful business manager of the 
theater in which his plays were produced. And the crowning 
glory of all his literary works is their shrewd, far-seeing, vig- 
orous common sense expressed in clear, terse, unhackneyed 
phraseology. 

Pope was of opinion that Shakespere' s principal object in 
cultivating literature was to secure an honest, independence. 
Indeed lie seems to have been altogether indifferent to literary 
reputation. It is not known that he superintended the pub- 
lication of a single play, or even sanctioned the printing of 
one; and the chronology of his writings is still a mystery. It 
is certain, however, that he prospered in his business, and real- 
ized sufficient to enable him to retire upon a competency to 
his native town of Stratford-upon-Avon. 

Chaucer was in early life a soldier, and afterwards an effec- 
tive Commissioner of Customs, and Inspector of Woods and 
Crown Lands. Spenser was Secretary to the Lord Deputy of 
Ireland, and is said to have been very shrewd and attentive in 
matters of business. Milton, originally a schoolmaster, was 
afterwards elevated to the post of Secretary to the Council of 
State during the Commonwealth; and the extant order-book 
of the Council, as well as many of Milton's letters which are 
preserved, give abundant evidence of his activity and useful- 
ness in that office. Sir Isaac Newton proved himself a most 
efficient Master of the Mint; the new coinage of 1694 having 
been carried on under his immediate personal superintendence. 
"Wordsworth and Scott, the former a distributor of stamps, the 
latter a clerk to the Court of Session, though great poets, were 
eminently punctual and practical men of business. David 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 149 

Ricardo, amidst the occupations of his daily business as a 
London stock-jobber, in conducting which he acquired an am- 
ple fortune, was able to concentrate his mind upon his favorite 
topic, the principles of political economy, on which he threw 
great light, being a sagacious commercial man and a profound 
philosopher. 

Grote, the historian of Greece, was a London banker, and 
John Stuart Mill retired in old a^e from the Examiner's de- 
partment of the East India Company, carrying with him the 
admiration and esteem of all his associates for the thoroughly 
satisfactory manner in which he had conducted the business 
of his department, as well as for his high intellectual attain- 
ments. Charles Lamb was as good a clerk as he was an es- 
sayist. In our own country, William Cullen Bryant is equally 
successful in business and in authorship. Oliver Wendell 
Holmes makes as good a Professor in a medical college as he 
does a star contributor for the literary magazines. Fitz Greene 
Halleck was a private secretary and a book-keeper, as well as 
a poet. And the same is true of many, many others. 

Moreover, it is always well to bear in mind that the great 
end of life is not simply to eat, drink, get a living, and make 
money. All these things, of course, are essential, but the life 
of thought, imagination, and reflection, although it may in 
some cases unfit one for practical business details, is in reality 
the higher and nobler life of the two. How much is the world 
indebted to these same men of thought and reflection and im- 
agination! Plow could the world get on without thinkers, 
writers, poets, inventors, and discoverers? As thought must 
in all cases precede intelligent action, so these theorists, these 
dreamy, impracticable men, if so they must be called when 
judged by a utilitarian standard or weighed in the scales of 
commercial comparison, have ever formed the true vanguard 
of the race. Blot out the lives and the intellectual results 
achieved by these men of thought during past ages, and 
you would at once put the race back into the rude periods of 
infancy and semi-barbarism. Just as glaciers on snow-capped 
Alpine summits move slowly down the mountain-side, and 



150 THE IMPEKIAL HIGHWAY 

then melt into rivers which irrigate and make fertile the val- 
leys below, just so the intellectual results achieved by these 
men of thought, dwelling the greater part of their lives on 
summits of abstraction high up above the level of their fel- 
lows, have moved down the intellectual plane, been changed 
into current comment and suggestion, and at last, embodied 
in practical projects or worked out into labor-saving machinery,, 
have made the valleys of industry to teem with verdure and 
blossom with prosperity! 

But in living this life of thought, instead of concentrating 
one's energies entirely upon business pursuits, in trying to be 
a scholar, a poet, or an inventor, there is no necessity for bid- 
ding adieu to this sovereign and primal virtue of common - 
sense. In fact, he who lets go of this sheet-anchor of the 
mind, whether he purposes to be a practical business man or 
an abstract thinker, will be an unsuccessful man and a fool. 
It is possible for a man to be a good scholar, a clear thinker, 
a logical reasoner, and al least a fair, average man of business, 
too; and towards this desirable goal every young man should 
bend his steps. 

The career of Disraeli, now Lord Beaconsfield and Prime 
Minister of England (1878), affords an example in point. His 
first achievements in literature, like Bulwer's, were failures. 
His "Wondrous Tale of Alroy" and "Revolutionary Epic" 
were laughed at, and regarded as indications of literary lunacy. 
But he worked on in other directions, and his " Coningsby," 
"Sybil," and "Tancred," proved the sterling stuff of which 
he was made. As an orator, too, his first appearance in the 
House of Commons was a failure. It was spoken of as " more 
screaming than an Adelphi farce." Though composed in a 
grand and ambitious strain, every sentence was hailed with 
" loud laughter." " Hamlet" played as a comedy were noth- 
ing to it. But he concluded with a sentence which embodied 
a prophecy. Writhing under the laughter with which his 
studied eloquence had been received, he exclaimed: "I have 
begun several times many things, and have succeeded in them 
at last. I shall sit down now, but the time will come when 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 151 

you will hear inc." The time did come; and how Disraeli 
succeeded in at length commanding the rapt attention of the 
first assembly of gentlemen in the world, affords a striking 
illustration of what energy and determination will do; for 
Disraeli earned his position by dint of patient industry. He 
did not, as many young men do, having once failed, retire de- 
jected, to mope and whine in a corner, but pluckily set himself 
to work. He carefully unlearned his faults, studied the char- 
acter of his audience, practiced sedulously the art of speech, 
and industriously filled his mind with the elements of parlia- 
mentary knowledge. He worked patiently for success; and it 
came, but slowly; then the House laughed with him, instead 
of at him. The recollection of his early failure was effaced, 
and by general consent he was at length admitted to be one of 
the most finished and effective of parliamentary speakers. As 
an old poet puts it, 

The wise do always govern their own fates, 
And fortune with officious zeal attends 
To crown their enterprises with success. 




152 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



CHAPTEK X. 

Good Manners. 

What thou wilt, 
Thou must rather enforce it with thy smile, 
Than hew to it with thy sword. 

Shakespere. 

Would you both please and be instructed too, 
Watch well the rage of shining to subdue ; 
Hear every man upon his favorite theme, 
And ever be more knowing than you seem. 
The lowest genius will afford some light 
Or give a hint that had escaped your sight. 

Stillingfleet. 

But still remember if you mean to please, 
To press your point with modesty and ease. 

Cowper. 



« 




[RUE politeness or courtesy such as was known and 
practiced in Lord Chesterfield's day, and of which 
"Chesterfield himself was a distinguished exponent as 
well as a brilliant example, is rapidly becoming in this country 
one of the so-called " lost arts." There is very little of it seen 
or taught here, and among people in general it is not even 
held in very high estimation. Thus far in our national career 
the majority of our citizens have been too busy in pushing 
ahead their individual fortunes and enterprises, or have en- 
countered too many difficulties in getting established in life, 
or have been too eager in shouting the praises of political lib- 
erty, and too intent upon exhibiting their independence, to pay 
much attention to the social amenities and refined courtesies 
of what is called polite life. But this neglect is to be consid- 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 153 

ered a fault rather than a virtue. Appearance, manner, a 
pleasing exterior and true kindness of heart go a great way 
sometimes in helping one forward in the race for fortune; and 
because of its power and utility it must be mentioned as 
among the materials composing the imperial highway. 

It is not enough to be made up of good qualities and traits 
of character, but it is equally important to have a good bear- 
ing towards our fellows. One of Chesterfield's maxims to his 
son was: "Prepare yourself for the world as the athlete does 
for his exercise; oil your mind and manners to give them the 
necessary suppleness and nexibilit} 7 ; simple strength alone 
will not do." Every one knows what a powerful thing for 
good or evil an impression is, particularly a first impression; 
and every one knows that outside demeanor and general ap- 
pearance has much to do in creating this impression. Once 
in a while a person has insight and penetration of character 
enough to look through all the superficial layers of a man, and 
read the hidden thoughts and emotions; but these persons are 
by no means common. With the greater part of mankind 
the external appearance and the manner of a man determine 
his reception among his fellows. " Give a boy address and 
accomplishments," says Emerson, "and you give him the 
mastery of palaces and fortunes wherever he goes; he has not 
the trouble of earning or owning them; they solicit him to 
enter and possess." 

Strange as it may seem, the manners of a man constitute a 
sort of minor morals. That is, a rude man is suspected of 
being, or actually taken for, a bad man. Thus, while coarse- 
ness and gruffness lock doors and close hearts, courtes f y, refine- 
ment, and gentleness are an "open sesame" at which bolts fly 
back and doors swing open. "You had better," wrote Ches- 
terfield to his son, " return a dropped fan genteelly than give 
a thousand pounds awkwardly; and you had better refuse a 
favor gracefully than grant it clumsily. . . . All your 
Greek can never advance you from secretary to envoy, or from 
envoy to ambassador; but your address, your air, your manner, 
if good, may." It is not so much vjhat a man says or does, as 



154 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

the way in which the thing is said or done that does the busi- 
ness. The human mind seems to know by instinct that words 
and phrases can be learned and can be spoken to order, just as 
a parrot learns to chatter by hearing and imitating others. It 
also knows that deeds are prompted by motives of all sorts 
and kinds, some of them good and transparent, others, dark 
and enigmatical ; and these, too, can be performed as occasion 
requires. 

But a person's manner is something that cannot always be 
so well regulated and fixed up; there will usually be some 
cracks and seams in the external covering through which the 
internal light will shine out, however hard the person may try 
to conceal it. And this appears to be the reason why we 
always watch a stranger's manner so carefully. Go up to a 
little child on the street and commence to talk to it; it may or 
may not understand the import of what you say, but those 
bright little eyes scan your appearance most intently, and from 
that appearance makes up its mind almost instantly whether 
it is safe and best to remain, or to run away. Nature works 
instinctively in such a case. 

In the early Abolition days two men went out preaching, one 
an old Quaker, and another a young man full of fire. When the 
Quaker lectured, everything ran along very smoothly, and he 
carried the audience with him. When the youngman lectured , 
there was a row, and stones and eggs. It became so notice- 
able, that the young man spoke to the Quaker about it. He 
said, "Friend, you and I are on the same mission, and preach 
the same things; and how is it that you are received cordially, 
and I get nothing but abuse?" The Quaker replied, "I will tell 
thee. Thee says, 'If you do so and so, you shall be punished,' 
and I say, ' My friends, if you will not do so and so, you shall 
not be punished.' " They both said the same thing, but there 
was a great deal of difference in the way they said it. 

True politeness has been defined as follows: "A gentleman 
is recognized by his regard for the rights and feelings of others, 
even in matters the most trivial. lie respects the individuality 
of others, just as he wishes others to respect his own/ In so- 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS' LIFE. 155 

ciety he is quiet, easy, unobstrusive; putting on no airs, nor 
hinting by word or manner that he deems himself better, 
wiser, or richer than any one about him. He is never ' stuck 
up,' nor looks down upon others because they have not titles, 
honors, or social position equal to his own. He never boasts 
of his achievements, or angles for compliments by affecting to 
underrate what he has done. He prefers to act, rather than to 
talk; to be, rather than to seem; and, above all things, is dis- 
tinguished by his deep insight and sympathy, his quick per- 
ception of, and prompt attention to, those little and apparently 
insignificant things that may cause pleasure or pain to others. 
In giving his opinions he does not dogmatize; he listens 
patiently and respectfully to other men, and, if compelled to 
dissent from their opinions, acknowledges his fallibility and 
asserts his own views in such a manner as to command the 
respect of all who hear him. Frankness and cordiality mark 
all his intercourse with his fellows, and, however high his 
station, the humblest man feels instantly at ease in his pres- 
ence." 

Accordingly, a good manner is not something which can be 
put on and off as occasion requires. To be genuine, it must 
spring from the heart and have its source in the disposition. 
In nature, it is very closely allied with goodness and good 
sense; it is composed of kindness, gentleness, ready tact and 
benevolence. It is carrying out the golden law, " Thou shalt 
love thy neighbor as thyself." Neither can politeness be 
learned by studying books on "Etiquette." For the effect of 
such study will be to concentrate one's attention upon self, 
whereas the essence of true courtesy consists in thinking of 
others, instead of self. Dr. F. D. Huntington has well said 
that " a noble and attractive every-day bearing is bred in years, 
not moments. The principle that rules your life is the sure 
posture-master and orders all your movements. Sir Philip Sid- 
ney was the pattern to all England of a perfect gentleman ; but 
then he was the hero that on the field of Zutphen pushed away 
the cup of cold water from his own fevered and parching lips, 
and held it out to the dying soldier at his side." It might,. 



156 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

however, have been just as well if he had divided the cup be- 
tween them, as to have wholly denied himself a solace equal to 
that which he so willingly administered to his suffering com- 
rade. At l^east this incident has always suggested such a 
thought whenever we have read it. 

That neither morality, nor genius, nor both, will insure the 
manifestation of courtesy is evident from the examples of Dr. 
Johnson and Carlyle. The former, the despot of the " Liter- 
ary Club," was so rude and gruff in manner as to acquire the 
nickname of "Ursa Major ;" and though Goldsmith pleaded 
with truth in his behalf, " No man alive has a more tender 
heart, he has nothing of the bear about him but his skin," 
yet we cannot call a man polite who ate like an Esquimau, and 
with whom " You don't understand the question, sir," and 
" You lie, sir," were the extremes of his method in arguing 
with scholars on his own level. ISTor can Carlyle, with his 
many noble qualities, be deemed polite, if, as a leading Lon- 
don journal asserts, his supreme contempt for the persons 
who disagree with him exasperates even those who have the 
highest respect for his integrity and insight. Washington, 
•on the other hand, was polite when he promptly returned the 
salute of a colored man ; Arnold was polite when the poor 
woman felt that he had treated her as if she were a lady ; 
•Chalmers was polite when every old woman in Morningside 
was elated and delighted with his courteous salute; and so 
was Robert Burns when he recognized an honest farmer in the 
street of Edinburgh, declaring to one who rebuked him that 
it was "not the great-coat, the scone bonnet, and the Saunders 
boot-hose " that he spoke to, " but the man that was in them." 

One way in which the rules of politeness are often violated 
is by a love of jesting. There are some men who would sac- 
rifice a life-long friend for a joke. But it will be better for 
most people to follow the advice of Stillingfleet when he says : 

Above all things raillery decline, 
'Tis in the ablest hands a dangerous tool, 
But never fails to wound the meddling fool; 
For all must grant it needs no common art 



SUCCESS Ii\ T BUSINESS LIFE. 15T 

To keep men patient when you make them smart. 
Neither wit alone, nor humor's self will do, 
(Without good nature, and much prudence, too,) 
To judge aright of persons, place and time; 
For taste decrees what's low, and what's sublime. 

Richard Brinsley Sheridan was known in his day as one of 
the keenest of wits, and yet he rarely or never allowed it to 
wound the feelings of any one. Some one has said of him 
that 

" His wit in the combat, as gentle as bright, 
.Never carried a heart-stain away on its blade." 

The same was true of Curran, the celebrated Irish barris- 
ter. One day he was examining a witness in court, when the 
fellow cried out to the judge, u My lord, my lord, I can't 
answer yon little gentleman, he's putting me in such a dol- 
drnm." " A doldrum ! Mr. Carran, what does he mean by a 
doldrum ! " exclaimed Lord Avonmore. " Oh, my lord, it's a 
very common complaint with persons of this sort ; it's mere- 
ly a confusion of the head arising from the corruption of the 
heart." Once when he was arguing for the defense in a state 
trial, the judge shook his head in doubt or denial of one of 
his points. " I see, gentlemen," said Curran to the jury, " I 
see the motion of his lordship's head. Common observers 
might imagine it implied a difference of opinion ; but they 
would be mistaken; it is merely accidental. Believe me, gen- 
tlemen, if you remain here many days, you will yourselves 
perceive that when his lordship shakes his head, there is 
nothing in it." 

If one can pun like this it may do, occasionally, but, as a 
rule, politeness and wit are seldom conjoined. It will be safer 
to imitate the Duke of Marlborough whose charming man- 
ners often changed an enemy into a friend. To be denied a- 
favor by him was said to be more pleasing than to receive one 
from another man. It was these personal graces that made 
him both rich and great, for, though he had nothing shining 
in his genius, and, according to Chesterfield, was eminently 
illiterate — " wrote bad English, and spelt it worse" — yet 



158 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

liis figure was beautiful, and his manner irresistable by man or 
woman. It was this which, when he was Ensign of the Guards, 
charmed the Duchess of Cleveland, the favorite of Charles IL, 
who gave him five thousand pounds, with which he laid the 
foundation of his subsequent fortune. His address was so 
exquisitely fascinating as to dissolve fierce jealousies and ani- 
mosities, lull suspicion, and beguile the subtlest diplomacy of 
its arts. His fascinating smile and winning tongue, equally 
with his sharp sword, swayed the destinies of empires. Be- 
fore the bland, soft-spoken commander, " grim-visaged war," 
in the person of Charles XII. of Sweden, " smoothed his 
wrinkled front ; " and the fiery warrior-king, at his appeal, 
bade adieu to the grand and importunate suitor for his alliance, 
Louis XI.Y., whom it was his great mission to defeat and 
humble. It was by the same charm of manner that he was 
able so long to keep together the members of the grand alli- 
ance against France, and direct them, in spite of their clash- 
ing interests, their jealousies, and their perpetual dissensions, 
to the main objects of the war. 

Every one is familiar with the magic effect of manner on 
oratory. Lord Chesterfield has given us an instance of this 
in his legislative career. Being asked to procure the adoption 
of the Gregorian Calendar by England, he introduced into 
Parliament a bill for that purpose. "But then," he adds, "my 
difficulty began. I was to bring in this bill, which was nec- 
essarily composed of law jargon and astronomical calculations, 
to both of which I was an utter stranger. However, it was 
absolutely necessary to make the House of Lords think that I 
knew something of the matter, and also make them believe 
that they knew something of it themselves, which they did 
not. For my own part, I could just as soon have talked Cel- 
tic or Sclavonian to them as astronomy, and they would have 
understood me full as well ; so I resolved to do better than 
speak to the purpose, and to please instead of informing them. 
. . I was particularly attentive to the choice of my 
words, to the harmony and roundness of my periods, to my 
elocution, to my action. This succeeded, and ever will sue- 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 159 

ceed ; they thought I informed, because I pleased them ; fc and 
many of them said that I had made the whole very clear to 
them, when, God knows, I had not even attempted it. Lord 
Macclesfield, who had the greatest share in forming the bill, 
and who is one of the greatest mathematicians and astrono- 
mers in Europe, spoke afterwards with infinite knowledge and 
all the clearness that so intricate a matter would admit of; 
but as his words, his periods and his utterance were not nearly 
so good as mine, the preference was most unanimously, though 
most unjustly, given to me." 

Chesterfield also said of the Duke of Argyle that he was 
the most impressive speaker he ever heard in his life. He 
ravished his audience, " not by his matter, but by his manner 
of delivering it. I was captivated, like others," continues 
Chesterfield ; u but when I went home and coolly considered 
what he had said, stripped of all those ornaments with which 
he had dressed it, I often found the matter flimsy, the argu- 
ment weak ; and I was convinced of the power of those ad- 
ventitious concurring circumstances which it is the ignorance 
of mankind to call trifling." Lord Chatham was a wonder- 
fully eloquent man, but his manner added to his eloquence. 
The delivery of Lord Mansfield, the silver-tongued Murray, 
had such ease, grace, and suavity that his bare narrative of a 
case was said to be worth any other man's argument. The 
student of English history, as he reads Wilberforce's speeches, 
wonders at his reputation ; but, had he heard them from the 
lips of the orator, delivered in tones full, liquid and penetra- 
ting, with the matchless accompaniments of attitude, gesture 
and expression, he would have found that a dramatic delivery 
can convert even commonplace into brilliant rhetoric. Few 
men have influenced more powerfully the persons with whom 
they have come in contact than Bishop Fenelon. The secret 
of his sway over hearts was his uniform courtes}^ a politeness 
springing from a profound love for his fellow-beings, of what- 
ever rank or class. Lord Peterborough, the distinguished 
English general, said of him, that he was " a delicious man." 



160 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

— that "lie had to ran away from him to prevent his making 
him a Christian." 

It is sometimes thought in this day and age of the world 
that if a person pretends to be very polite and agreeable and 
obliging, that he or she lacks essential force of character — are, 
in fact, a little " soft.' 5 But nothing is wider of the real truth. 
It is true, a man may push his way through the world by 
main force. But advancement so gained is gained by a great 
waste of power. The same abilities accompanied with pre- 
possessing manners would have achieved far more brilliant re- 
sults. No doubt, by the use of mere brute force one may 
make a certain amount of impression; and so, too, may a sol- 
dier hew clown his foes with an old-fashioned battle-axe or with 
a scythe, but would he be wise in preferring such a weapon to 
the keen Damascus blade? 

Again, military men as a class, are courteous the world over, 
attention to manner being a part of their training. Besides 
true courage and courtesy always go hand in hand. The bravest 
men are the most forgiving, and the most anxious to avoid 
quarrels. Canon Kingsley observes that the love and admira- 
tion which that truly brave and loving man, Sir Sidney Smith 
won from every one, rich and poor, with whom he came in 
contact, seems to have arisen from the one fact, that, without 
perhaps having any such conscious intention, he treated rich 
and poor, his own servants and the noblemen, his guests, alike, 
and alike courteously, cheerfully, considerately, affectionately, 
— so leaving a blessing and reaping a blessing wherever he 
went. It was said of Sir John Franklin that he was a man 
" who never turned his back upon a danger, yet of great ten- 
derness." 

At a late period in life the Duke of "Wellington wrote to a 
friend: "I am not in the habit of deciding upon such matters 
hastily or in anger; and the proof of this is, that / never had 
a quarrel vnth any man in my life/" Considering the long 
and varied career, civil and military, of " The Iron Duke," 
and that, too, in different parts of the globe; the countless 
persons, of the most opposite qualities, with whom he had to 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 161 

deal; his constant vexations in the Peninsula with Spanish 
pride and suspicion, and red-tapeism at home; the habits of 
his army at that time; and his trials in political life, — it is 
truly wonderful that the great captain, whose truthfulness was 
extreme, could at the age of sixty have thus spoken of him- 
self. It is evident that he could never have said it, had he not 
learned, before commanding others, to command himself, 
watching and governing his own feelings with the same cool- 
ness and self-possession with which he handled his troops on 
the battle-field. 

Hundreds of men have owed their start in life to their win- 
ning address. It is said that some years ago in England a 
curate of narrow income but kindly disposition perceived two 
elderly spinsters, in old-fashioned costume, beset with jeers 
and jibes by a mob of men and boys lounging round the church 
porch while the bell was ringing for church service. Forcing 
his way through the crowd, he gave one lady his right arm 
and the other his left, led them both into church, and escorted 
them politely up the middle aisle to a convenient pew, regard- 
less of the stares and titters of the congregation. Some years 
afterwards the needy curate was agreeably surprised by the 
announcement that the two old ladies, having lately died, had 
bequeathed him a handsome fortune in recognition of his well- 
timed courtesy. 

It is related of the late Mr. Butler, of Providence, Rhode 
Island, that he was so obliging as to reopen his store one night 
solely to supply a little girl with a spool of thread which she 
wanted. The incident took wind, brought him a large run of 
custom, and he died a millionaire, after subscribing $4:0,000 
toward founding a hospital for the insane, — a sum which he 
was persuaded to give by Miss Dix, whom he was too polite 
to shake off, though almost as penurious as she was perseve- 
ring. Dr. Valentine Mott said wisely to a graduating class of 
medical students: "Young gentlemen, have two pockets made 
— a large one to hold insults, a small one to hold fees." 

Reference has already been made to the deplorable lack of 
courtesy which almost all classes in this country are exhibiting 
11 



162 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY 

in their daily life and intercourse with each other. But it ap- 
pears from a recent address of Dr. Guthrie of Edinburgh, that 
the same thing is true of Scotland, and perhaps it may be 
called, properly, a characteristic of the pushing, wide-awake, 
inquisitive, brusque Anglo-Saxon race, as a whole. It may 
be further said to be a characteristic of this utilitarian, selfish, 
money-making Nineteenth Century. Said the Doctor: "Ask 
a person at Rome to show you the road, and he will always 
give a civil and polite answer; but ask any person a question 
for that purpose in this country (Scotland), and he will say, 
'Follow your nose, and you will find it.' But the blame is 
with the upper classes; and the reason why, in this country, 
the lower classes are not polite, is because the upper classes 
are not polite. I remember how astonished I was the first 
time I was in Paris. I spent the first night with a banker, 
who took me to a pension, or, as we call it, a boarding-house. 
When we got there, a servant-girl came to the door, and the 
banker took off his hat, and bowed to the servant-girl, and 
called her mademoiselle, as if she was a lady. Now the rea- 
son why the lower classes there are so polite is because the 
upper classes are polite and civil to them." 

We can hardly be said to have any " upper classes " in this 
country, although there are many who act and feel as though 
they belonged to such. And one trouble with us in this respect 
is, that those who claim to be the aristocracy are not such by 
birth, or gentle blood, or distinguished noble ancestry, as a 
rule, but rather those who have happened, by hook or crook, 
to become wealthy somewhat suddenly and unexpectedly; 
therefore, when these have moved up into the upper circle, 
they have necessarily carried all their native ignorance and 
coarse manners with them. Consequently, there is no one to 
set others an example of good manners in this country, any 
more than in Scotland. But this is no reason why all young 
persons should not strive to possess it for themselves, let others 
do as they may. 

Says Mr. Smiles: "The inbred politeness which springs 
from right-heartedness and kindly feelings, is of no exclusive 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 163 

rank or station. The mechanic who works at the bench may 
possess it, as well as the clergyman or the peer. It is by no 
means a necessary condition of labor, that it should in any re- 
spect be either rough or coarse. The politeness and refinement 
which distinguish all classes of the people in many continental 
countries amply prove that those qualities might become ours 
too — as doubtless they will become with increased culture and 
more general social intercourse — without sacrificing any of our 
more genial qualities as men. From the highest to the lowest 
the richest to the poorest, to no rank or condition in life has 
nature denied her highest boon, — the great heart. There never 
yet existed a gentleman but was lord of a great heart. And 
this may exhibit itself under the hodden grey of the peasant 
as well as under the laced coat of the noble. 

"The true gentleman has a keen sense of honor,— scrupulous- 
ly avoiding mean actions. His standard of probity in word and 
action is high. He does not shuffle nor prevaricate, dodge nor 
skulk; but is honest, upright, and straightforward. His law 
is rectitude, — action in right lines. When he says yes, it is 
a law; and he dares to say the valiant no at the fitting season. 
The gentleman will not be bribed; only the low-minded and 
unprincipled sell themselves to those interested in buying." 

When the Duke of Wellington was in India, shortly after 
the battle of Assaye, one morning the prime minister of the 
Court of Hyderabad waited upon him for the purpose of pri- 
vately ascertaining what territory and what advantages had 
been reserved for his master in the treaty of peace between the 
Mahratta princes and the Nizam. To obtain this information 
the minister offered the general a very large sum, — consider- 
ably above 100,000£. Looking at him quietly for a few seconds, 
Sir Arthur said, " It appears, then, that you are capable of 
keeping a secret ? " "Yes, certainly," replied the minister. 
" Then so am I" said the English general, smiling, and 
bowing the minister out. It was to Wellington's great honor, 
that though uniformly successful in India, and with the power 
of earning in such modes as this enormous wealth, he did not 



164 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

add a farthing to his fortune, and returned to England a com- 
paratively poor man. 

Occasionally the brave and gentle character may be found 
under the humblest garb. Here is an old illustration but a 
fine one. Once on a time, when the Adige suddenly over- 
flowed its banks,the bridge of Yerona was carried away, with 
the exception of the centre arch, on which stood a house, 
whose inhabitants supplicated help from the windows, while 
the foundations were visibly giving way. " I will give a 
hundred French louis," said the Count Spolverini, who stood 
by, " to any person who will venture to deliver these unfortu- 
nate people." A young peasant came forth from the crowd, 
seized .a boat, and pushed into the stream. He gained the 
pier, received the whole family into the boat, and made for 
the shore, where he landed them in safety. " Here is your 
money, my brave young fellow," said the count. "No," was 
the answer of the young man, " I do not sell my life; give the 
money to this poor family, who have need of it." Here spoke 
the true spirit of the gentleman, though he was but in the 
garb of a peasant ! 

Finally, a consideration for the feelings of inferiors and de- 
pendants as well as equals, and respect for their self-respect, 
will pervade the true gentleman's whole conduct. He will 
rather himself suffer a small injury than, by an uncharitable 
construction of another's behavior, incur the risk of commit- 
ting a great wrong. He will be forbearing with the weaknesses, 
the failings and the errors of those whose advantages in life 
have not been equal to his own. He will be merciful even to 
his beast. He will not boast of his wealth, or his strength, or 
his gifts. He will not confer favors with a patronizing air. 
Sir Walter Scott once said of Lord Lothian, " He is a man 
from whom one may receive a favor, and that's saying a great 
deal in these days." Lord Chatham once said that the gentle- 
man is characterized by his preference for others to himself in 
the little daily occurrences of life. 

In illustration of this ruling spirit of considerateness in a 
noble character, we may cite the anecdote of the gallant Sir 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 165 

Ralph Abercromby, of. whom it is related, that when mortally 
wounded in the battle of Aboukir, he was carried in a litter on 
board the " Foudroyant; " and, to ease his pain, a soldier's 
blanket was placed under his head, from which he experienced 
considerable relief. He asked what it was. " It's only a sol- 
dier's blanket," was the reply. " Whose blanket is it?" said 
he, half lifting himself up. " Only one of the men's." " I 
wish to know the name of the man whose blanket this is." 
" It is Duncan Roy's, of the 42d, Sir Ralph." "Then see that 
Duncan Roy gets his blanket this very night." Even to ease 
his dying agony, the general would not deprive the private 
soldier of his blanket for one night. 




166 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



CHAPTER XI. 

SUCCESSFUL ELEMENTS IN CHARACTER. 

NUMBER FOUR. 

Force of Will. 

Be firm ; one constant element of luck 

Is genuine, solid, old Teutonic pluck. 

Stick to your aim ; the mongrel's hold will slip, 

But only crowbars loose the bull-dog's grip ; 

Small though he looks, the jaw that never yields 

Drags down the bellowing monarch of the fields ! 

O. W. Holmes. 

" Perseverance is a Roman virtue, 
That wins each godlike act, and plucks success 
E'en from the spear-proof crest of rugged danger ." 

The proudest motto for the young 

Write it in lines of gold 

Is, * * * « There's no such word as faiV 

Mrs. Neal. 

Muse not that thus I suddenly proceed ; 
For what I will, I will, and there's an end. 

Shakespere. 

Let not one look of fortune cast you down. 
She were not fortune, if she did not frown ; 
But such as braveliest bear her scorns awhile, 
Are those on whom at last she most will smile. 

Earl op Orrey. 



HERE are several excellences of conduct and character 
which are practically identical, but which are some 
times called by different names. Thus we might speak 
of energy, of tenacity of purpose, of strength of will, and of 
force, but we should mean substantially one and the same 




SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 167 

thing; consequently, in this chapter we have grouped all these 
several traits together, and have given to the elements of char- 
acter which they represent, the designation ^- force of will. 

Of the value of will-power to success it is almost needless 
to speak, because this value is so generally recognized. What 
the Captain and the helm are to a steamship, that the human 
will is among the other faculties of the mind. It commands, 
guides, controls, preserves, or blasts and ruins. Nature is 
the engine in the hold, furnishing power, but the will directs 
the exercise of this power towards any given object or end. 
Hence, the will is President of the intellectual republic ; it 
is the Executive force in humanity. "Without will, a man 
would be like the soft, flabby, nerveless mollusk or shell-fish 
in the ocean ; he could only drift about with the tide, and open 
his mouth occasionally to catch the good things that might 
come along. As for going anywhere, or being anything in 
par tic alar, that would be out of the question entirely. Some 
men have a normal will, but no vim or energy in it, and so 
they accomplish but little. Again, some men are all will, and 
no brains; these are simply human mules, stubborn, igno- 
rant and intractable. A w T ell-balanced and perfectly-furnished 
man would have body, brains, heart and will,— all four ; for 
neither of these elements is identical with the others, but, 
taken all together, they make up the w T hole man. As another 
has said, u it is not eminent talent that is required to insure 
success in any pursuit so much as purpose, — not merely the 
power to achieve, but the will to labor energetically and per- 
severingly. Hence energy of will may be defined as the very 
central power of character in a man, — in a word, it is the Man 
himself. It gives impulse to his every action, and soul to 
every effort. True hope is based upon it, — and it is hope that 
gives the real perfume to life." 

In Scandinavian mythology, the chief god, Thor, is always 
represented with a hammer in his hand. And this pictorial 
device exactly images to the eye the idea of a hero which those 
rough, rude, strong Northmen cherished. The great, brawny 
arm and hand, clenching a hammer, was the very embodiment 



168 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

of force or purpose in character. Very similar was the ancient 
crest of a pickaxe with the motto : " Either I will find a way, 
or make one." It is not enough to. simply wish and desire to 
be and do, but one must remember that " nothing of real 
worth can be achieved without courageous working. Man 
owes his growth chiefly to that active striving of the will, that 
encounter with difficulty, which we call effort; and it is aston- 
ishing to find how often results apparently impracticable are 
thus made possible. An intense anticipation itself transforms 
possibility into reality ; our desires being often but the pre- 
cursors of the things which we 'are capable of performing. On 
the contrary, the timid and hesitating find everything impos- 
sible, chiefly because it seems so" It is related of a young 
French officer, that he used to walk about his apartment ex- 
claiming, " I will be Marshal of France and a great general." 
This ardent desire was the presentiment of his success ; for 
he did become a distinguished commander, and he died a 
Marshal of France. 

The story is also told of a carpenter who was observed one 
day planing a magistrate's bench which he was repairing with 
more than usual carefulness, and when asked the reason, 
replied, "I wish to make it easy against the time when I 
come to sit upon it myself." And, singularly enough, the 
man actually lived to sit upon that very bench as a magis- 
trate. < 

There has always been a great controversy among theolo- 
gians and metaphysicians as to whether man's will is free or 
not ; but if the will is not free there is no such thing as the 
voice of conscience within us ; because, being machines, we 
could neither be justly praised or blamed. As has already been 
partially expressed, the will, considered without regard to di- 
rection, is simple constancy, firmness ; and therefore it will 
be obvious that everything depends upon right direction and 
motives. Directed towards the enjoyment of the senses, the 
strong will may be a demon, and the intellect merely its de- 
based slave; but directed tow r ards good, the strong will is a 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE- 169 

king, and the intellect is then the minister of man's highest 
well-being. 

He who resolves upon doing a thing, by that very resolu- 
tion often scales the barriers to it and secures its achievement. 
To think we are able, is sometimes to be so. The strength of 
the great Russian General Suwarrow's character lay in his 
power of willing, and like most resolute persons, he preached 
it up as a system. ''You Can only half will," he would say to 
persons who failed. Like Richelieu and Napoleon, he would 
have the word "impossible" banished from the dictionary. 
In a struggle against the Turks in 1787. at the battle of Kin- 
burn, Suwarrow was severely wounded, and was compelled to 
seek repose in his litter; but his troops being soon after 
thrown into confusion, the general remounted his horse, threw 
himself almost into the midst of the enemy, reproached his 
men for their cowardice, and retrieved by his personal cour- 
age the fortunes of the field. In his old age he was sent with 
30,000 troops to co-operate with the Archduke, Charles of 
Austria, against the French in Italy. When asked for his 
plans, he said he -had- none, and if he had, he would not dis- 
close them. When presented with propositions for defensive 
operations, he said, "Tell my lord, the prince, that I know 
nothing of defense, I only attack. I shall advance when it 
seems good to me, and when I start, I shall not stop in Switz- 
erland, but go into Franche-Comte, according to my orders. 
He is a field marshal, and so am I; he commands an army, 
and so do I; he is young and I am old. I have acquired ex- 
perience by successive victories, and I receive neither counsel 
uor advice from any one; I trust alone in God and my sword." 

But the victorious old warrior, although he had conquered 
in so many conflicts, was in this instance willful and head- 
strong to excess, for he went forward as he had said, and at 
Zurich was defeated by Massena, one of Napoleon's generals. 
This last incident, therefore, is -a good one by which to draw 
the line between proper force of will and simple obstinacy. 
Sir Fowell Buxton held the conviction that a young man might 
be very much what he pleased, provided he formed a strong 



170 'THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY 

resolution and held to it. Writing to one of his own sons, he 
once said, " You are now at that period of life, in which you 
must make a turn to the right or the left. You must now 
give proofs of principle, determination, and strength of mind; 
or you must sink into idleness, and acquire the habits and 
character of a desultory, ineffective young man; and if once 
you fall t^ that point, you will find it no easy matter to rise 
again. I am sure that a young man may be very much what 
he pleases. In my own case it was so. . . . Much of my 
happiness, and all my prosperity in life, have resulted from 
the change I made at your age. If you seriously resolve to 
be energetic and industrious, depend upon it that you will for 
your whole life have reason to rejoice that you were wise 
enough to form and to act upon that determination." 

But who was Sir Fowell Buxton? He was one of the leaders 
in the cause of slavery abolition throughout the British do- 
minions, and took the position formerly occupied by Wilber- 
force in the House of Commons. Buxton was a dull, heavy 
boy, and noted even then for a strong self-will which often 
amounted to real and violent obstinacy. His father died when 
he was but a child, but fortunately he had a wise mother who 
trained his will with great care, constraining him to obey, but 
encouraging the habit of deciding and acting for himself in 
matters which might safely be left to him. This mother be- 
lieved that strong will, directed upon worthy objects, was a 
valuable manly quality, if properly guided, and she acted ac- 
cordingly. When others about her commented on the boy's 
self-will, she would merely say, " Xever mind, — he is self- 
willed now, — you will see it will turn out well in the end." 
Powell learned very little at school, and was somewhat of a 
dunce and an idler. He got other boys to do his exercises for 
him, while he romped and scrambled about. He returned 
home at fifteen, a great, growing, awkward lad, fond only of 
boating, shooting, riding, and field-sports, — spending his time 
principally with the gamekeeper, a man possessed of a good 
heart, and an intelligent observer of life and nature, though he 
could neither read nor write. 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 171 

He started in life as a brewer's clerk, and his power of will 
which had made him so difficult to deal with when a boy, now 
formed the backbone of his character and made him energetic 
in whatever he undertook. He threw his whole strength and 
bulk right down upon his work, and the great giant, "Elephant 
Buxton," as they called him, standing, as he did, some six 
feet four in height, became one of the most vigorous and prac- 
tical of men. He worked during the day at his trade, and 
gave up his evenings to the reading and digesting of Black- 
stone, Montesquieu, and solid commentaries on English law. 
His maxims in reading were, "never to begin a book without 
finishing it;" "never to consider a book finished until it is 
mastered;" and "to study everything with the whole mind." 

When only thirty-two Buxton entered Parliament, and at 
once assumed that position of influence there, of which every 
honest, earnest, well-informed man is secure. The principal 
question to which he devoted himself was the complete eman- 
cipation of the slaves in British colonies. He himself used to 
attribute the strong interest which he early felt in this ques- 
tion to the influence of Priscilla Gurney, one of the Earlham 
family, — a woman of a fine intellect and warm heart, abound- 
ing in illustrious virtues. When on her death-bed, in 1821, 
she repeatedly sent for Buxton, and urged him "to make the 
cause of the slaves the great object of his life." Her last act 
was to attempt to reiterate the solemn charge, and she expired 
in the ineffectual effort. Buxton never forgot her counsel; he 
named one of his daughters after her; and on the da}^ on which 
she was married from his house, on the 1st of August, 1834, 
— the day of negro emancipation, — after his Priscilla had left 
her father's home in the company of her husband, Buxton sat 
down and thus wrote to a friend: "The bride is just gone; 
everything has passed oft' to admiration: and there is not a 
slave in the British colonies!" 

Buxton was no genius, — not a great intellectual leader nor 
discoverer, but mainly an earnest, straightforward, resolute, 
energetic man. Indeed, his whole character is most forcibly 
expressed in his own words, Which every young man might 



172 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

well stamp upon his soul: " The longer I live," said he, " the 
more I am certain that the great difference between men, be- 
tween the feeble and the powerful, the great and the insignifi- 
cant, is energy, — invincible determination,— & purpose once 
fixed, and then death or victory ! That quality will do any- 
thing that can be done in this world; and no talent, no cir- 
cumstances, no opportunities, will make a two-legged creature 
a man without it." 

Another man of dauntless will and indefatigable industry 
was Warren Hastings, so celebrated in English history as one 
of the rulers of the British Empire in India. His family was 
ancient and illustrious, but- their vicissitudes of fortune and 
ill-requited loyalty in the cause of the Stuarts, brought them 
to ruin, and the family estate at Daylesford, of which they had 
been lords of the manor for hundreds of years, at length passed 
from their hands. The last Hastings of Daylesford had,^how- 
ever, previously presented the parish living to his second son; 
and it was in his house, many years later, that "Warren Hast- 
ings, his grandson, was born. The boy learned his letters at 
the village-school of Daylesford, on the same bench with the 
children of the peasantry. He played in the fields which his 
fathers had owned ; and what the loyal and brave Hastings 
of Daylesford had been, was ever in the boy's thoughts. His 
young ambition was fired, and it is said that, one summer's 
day, when only seven years old, as he laid him 'down on the 
bank of the stream which flows through the old domain, he 
formed in his mind the resolution that he would yet recover 
possession of the family lands. 

It was the romantic vision of a mere boy; yet he lived to 
realize it. The dream became a passion, rooted in his very 
life; and he pursued his determination through youth up to 
manhood, with that calm but indomitable force of will which 
was the most striking peculiarity of his character. The poor 
orphan boy became one of the most powerful men of his time; 
he retrieved the fortunes of his line; bought back the old es- 
tate, and rebuilt the family mansion. " When, under a tropi- 
cal sun," says Macaulay, "he ruled fifty millions of Asiatics, 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE 173 

his hopes, amidst all the cares of war, finance and legislation, 
still pointed to Daylesford. And when his long public life, so 
singularly checkered with good and evil, with glory and ob- 
loquy, had at length closed forever, it was to Daylesford that 
he retired to die." 

The impulse of a powerful will often endows both mind and 
body with heroic strength. Men have cured themselves of 
painful diseases by a herculean effort of the volition, and phy- 
sicians always count upon a cheerful, hopeful frame of mind 
in their patients as one of the most important agencies in 
effecting a restoration to health. Aaron Burr laid aside a 
wasting fever like a garment, to join the expedition against 
Quebec. One of the greatest generals of the Thirty Years* 
War was Torstenson. On account of his sufferings from the 
gout, he was usually carried about in a litter; yet the rapidity 
of his movements was the astonishment of the world. When 
Douglas Jerrold, being very sick, was told by his physician 
that he must die, "What!" he said, "and leave a family of 
helpless children? I won't die ! " and die he did not for sev- 
eral years. 

When were the prospects of any man gloomier than those 
of Wolfe just before he captured Quebec? From his early 
youth he had suffered severely from a fatal disease, and the 
seeds of others were deeo laid in his constitution. He had 
been severely repulsed in an attack on Montcalm's intrench- 
ments south of Quebec; his troops were dispirited; the prom- 
ised auxiliaries under Amherst and Johnson ^ad failed to 
arrive; and he himself, through the fatigue and anxiety prey- 
ing on his delicate frame, fell violently ill of a fever. Partially 
recovering his health, he writes to the government at home, 
as if to prepare the public mind in England for his failure or 
retreat, a letter full of gloom, concluding thus: "I am so far 
recovered as to do business, but my constitution is entirely 
ruined, without the consolation of having done any consider- 
able service to the state, or without the prospect of it." Within 
live days only from the date of that letter, the Heights of 
Abraham had been scaled, Montcalm defeated, the seemingly 



174. THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

impregnable fortress surrendered, and the name of Wolfe had 
become immortal to all ages ! 

Another remarkable example of this is furnished by the 
captured Texans of the Santa Fe Expedition, who, after having 
marched until they were nearly dead with fatigue and exhaus- 
tion, yet, being told that any who should prove unable to walk 
would be shot, contrived to pluck up, and set off at a round 
pace, which they kept up all day. So Quintin Matsys, the fa- 
mous Dutch painter, in his youth, despaired of being ever able 
to paint, till his master told him that only by producing a 
picture of merit within six months could he have his daugh- 
ter's hand ; and then he set vigorously to work and brought 
forth "The Misers," a masterpiece of art, which connoisseurs 
have admired for ages. Nearly all great men — those who 
have towered high above their fellows — have been remarkable 
above all things else for their energy of will. Of Julius Caesar 
it is said by a contemporary, that it was his activity and giant 
determination, rather than his military skill, that won his vic- 
tories. A glance at Hannibal's life will show that a resolute 
will was the leading quality of that commander, though less 
conspicuous, perhaps, in him than in others, because of the 
exact proportion in which all the military qualities were united 
in him, who, by the common consent of soldiers as well as his- 
torians, was the greatest captain the world has seen. 

Napoleon was a terrible example of what the power of will 
can accomplish. He always threw his whole force of body 
and mind direct upon his work. Imbecile rulers and the na- 
tions they governed w r ent down before him in succession. He 
was told that the Alps stood in the way of his armies, — 
"There shall be no Alps," he said, and the road across the 
Simplon was constructed, through a district formerly almost 
inaccessible. u Impossible," said he, " is a word only to be 
found in the dictionary of fools." He was a man who toiled 
terribly; sometimes employing and exhausting four secretaries 
at a time. He spared no one, not even himself. His influ- 
ence inspired other men, and put a new life into them. "I 
made my generals out of mud," he said. 



SUCCESS .IN BUSINESS LIFE. 175 

His great adversary, Wellington, was distinguished by a 
similar inflexibility of purpose. The entire Peninsular cam- 
paign was but one long-continued display of iron will, resolute 
to conquer difficulties by wearing them out. . In the life-and- 
death struggle between England and France, of which that 
campaign was a part, and which lasted nearly a quarter of a 
century, it was the stubborn will of the former which tri- 
umphed in the end; for though Napoleon defeated the British 
coalitions again and again, yet new ones were constantly 
formed, until at last the French people, if not their Emperor, 
were completely worn out. And, finally, the battle of "Water- 
loo, which was the climax of this stupendous struggle, was 
another illustration of the enormous energy, the exhaustless 
patience, the bull-dog-will, of the English. In that fearful 
contest, French impetuosity and prowess proved an unequal 
match for English pluck and resolution. For eight long hours 
the British army stood up against the murderous fire of the 
enemy; column after column fell, and the entire side of one 
square was literally blown away by a volley of grape. One 
sullen word of command ran along the line as thousands fell, 
" File up! file up!" and the troops silently obeyed. At 
length the crisis came; the order to charge was given ; and the 
men who had stood like statues before the "iron hail" of the 
French artillery, swept like a whirlwind upon the foe. 

When Wm. Lloyd Garrison, the great agitator, commenced 
the publication of his paper called " The Liberator," he began 
with these memorable words: "I am in earnest, I will not 
equivocate, I will not excuse, I will not retreat a single inch, 
and / will be heard" And he was heard, and felt, and his 
paper became a great power for good in the cause to which it. 
was devoted. Dr. Arnold the teacher, used to say that the 
difference between one boy and another in school consisted not 
so much in talent as in energy. When Ledyard, the traveler, 
was asked by the African Association when he would be ready 
to set out for Africa, he promptly answered, "To-morrow 
morning." Blucher's promptitude obtained for him the cog- 
nomen of " Marshal Forwards " throughout the Prussian army. 



176 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

When John Jervis, afterwards Earl St. Vincent, was asked 
when he would be ready to join his ship, he replied, " Di- 
rectly." For it is rapid decision, and a similar promptitude 
in action, such as taking instant advantage of an enemy's mis- 
takes, that so often wins battles. "Every moment lost," said 
Napoleon, " gives an opportunity for misfortune;" and he 
used to say that he beat the Austrians because they never 
knew the value of time ; while they dawdled, he overthrew 
them. 

There are hundreds of men who in the beginning of their 
career are obliged to war against both wind and tide, but those 
who persevere for years and conquer their difficulties, gener- 
ally overcome at last unless their will-power fails them, when 
they sink down by the wayside, give up in despair, and come 
to nothing. Savonarola, the Italian reformer, broke down in 
his first sermon and was humiliated beyond expression. Re- 
solved, however, to succeed,, he kept on preaching to peasants 
and children, and in the solitude of his own chamber, till at 
last he acquired a facility of utterance and a command of 
striking language which made him the prophet of his age and 
the first orator in Italy. Robespierre, contending with the 
disadvantages of a harsh voice, an ugly face, and a hesitating 
tongue, failed in his first essays at speaking so egregiously that 
not one man in a thousand, under the circumstances, could have 
helped being disheartened ; yet by ceaseless eifort he succeeded 
in leading the National Assembly of France. Mr. Cobden's 
first speech was a humiliating failure. He was nervous, con- 
fused, and finally broke down ; yet he did not retire to a cor- 
ner and mope and whine, but persevered, till at last he became 
one of the most powerful speakers of the Anti-Corn-Law 
League, and extorted the praise of the accomplished Robert 
Peel. 

"When Daniel Webster attended an academy in his boyhood, 
though he was proficient in the other branches of education, 
there was one thing, he tells us, he could not do, — he could 
not declaim before the school. " The kind and excellent 
Buckminster especially sought to persuade me to perform the 



SU.OCESS: IN BUSINESS- LIFE. 177 

exercise of declamation like other bojs, but I could not do it. 
Mai] j a pjecp did. I commit ,to memory, and Tehearseit in ray 
own room over and over again ; but when the day cam e,< when 
the school collected, when my name was called, and I saw all 
eyes turned upon my seat, I could not raise myself from it. 
Sometimes the masters frowned, sometimes they smiled. Mr- 
Buckminster always pressed and entreated with the most win r 
ning kindness that I would only venture once; but I could 
not command sufficient resolution, and when the occasion was 
over, I went home and wept bitter tears of mortification," 

Rev. Dr. Francis .Way land began his ministerial career un- 
der many discouragements. They would have crushed a feeble 
man, but only stimulated him to greater efforts. Son! of an 
English currier who had abandoned a profitable trade to be- 
come a Baptist preacher, he gave up the profession for which 
he had partially prepared himself, and followed the example 
of his father. A single year at Andover, where he was so 
poor that he had once to choose between a coat and a. copy of 
Schleusner's lexicon, summed up his study of theology ; yet 
he had so faithfully improved this slender opportunity, that he 
was called to the pastorate of the First Baptist Church in 
Boston. On a cold, rainy night in October, 1823, he preached 
before the Baptist' Foreign Missionary Society a sermori on 
Missions. There were about fifty persons present ;.: the dis- 
course kindled ;no enthusiasm; . and with keen chagrin the 
preacher next morning flung himself upon a lounge in the 
study, of a friend, exclaiming, ." It was a complete failure ; it 
fell perfectly dead." Luckily, among the hearers was a shrewd 
printer, a deacon in the church, who insisted that the sermon 
should be published. Against his own will, the author con- 
sented. . The discourse — the memorable one on "TheMoral 
Dignity of the Missionary Enterprise " — ran .thrpugh. sever- 
al editions, both in this country and in England, called; forth 
the warmest encomiums of the press without distinction of 
sect, and kindled a new enthusiasm in behalf of missions 
throughout the Christian world. Eobert Hall, on reading it, 
predicted a still greater distinction for the preacher ; andqnly 
12 



178 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

three years later the author, hitherto an obscure man, was 
elected to the Presidency of Brown University almost by 
acclamation. 

History abounds with instances of doubtful battles or unex- 
pected reverses transformed by one man's stubbornness into 
eleventh-hour triumphs. It is opinion, as De Maistre truly 
says, that wins battles, and it is opinion that loses them. The 
battle of Marengo went against the French during the first 
half of the day, and they were expecting an order to retreat, 
when Dessaix, consulted by JSTapoleon, looked at his watch, 
and said, "The battle is completely lost ; but it is only two 
o'clock, and we shall have time to gain another." He then 
made his famous cavalry charge, and won the field. Blucher, 
the famous Prussian general, was by no means a lucky leader. 
He was beaten in nine battles out of ten; but in a marvel- 
ously brief time he had rallied his routed army, and was as 
formidable as ever. He had his disappointments, but turned 
them, as the oyster does the sand which annoys it, into a pearl. 
Washington lost more battles than he won, but he organized 
victory out of defeat, and triumphed in the end. It was be- 
cause they appreciated this quality of pluck, that, when the 
battle of Cannae was lost, and Hannibal was measuring by 
bushels the rings of Roman knights who had perished in the 
strife, the Senate of Home voted thanks to the defeated gen- 
eral, Consul Terentius Varro, for not having despaired of the 
republic. 

There was never a time in the world's history when force 
of will was more necessary to success than now. People are 
multiplying rapidly, the earth is becoming more and more 
thickly settled, knowledge has increased, and the number of 
contestants for every prize grows more and more formidable. 
Nearly every kind of business is overdone, the professions are 
crowded to repletion, and the only way in which one can hope 
to do anything, or succeed at all in life, is by the exercise of 
the greatest amount of patience and unwearied application. 
And it takes an immense reservoir of will-power to keep up 
one's spirits while making a life-long effort to achieve* success. 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 179 

When Daniel Webster entered upon the study of law, some 
one told him he had better not do it, that the profession was 
overcrowded already, and that the chances were all against 
him. "Overcrowded ?." said Webster, " there is always room 
enough at the top." And so he started for the " top " of his 
profession, and finally reached it. But how many give out 
before they reach the top, or come anywhere near it ? 

It cannot be too often repeated that there is no such thing 
as genius by which one 'can scale the walls of difficulty which 
are sure to be encountered in life's pathway, or fly to the pin- 
nacle of fortune, fame and glory at a single endeavor. Genius 
is simply another name for force of will, power of endurance, 
and good native talent. Nor must one be easily discouraged 
by failure at first. The very brightest stars in fortune's fir- 
in alien t have climbed their way up the giddy steep, step by 
step, never becoming disheartened, never going back, or giv- 
ing out, after having once set their faces like a flint in the 
direction of their ambition or desire. 

What the elder Kean said of the stage is applicable to every 
profession and art in life : "Acting does not, like Dogberry's 
reading and writing, 'come by nature;' with all the high 
qualities which go to the formation of a great exponent of the 
book of life (for so the. stage may justly be called), it is impos- 
sible, totally impossible, to leap at once to fame. ' What 
wound did ever heal but by slow degrees? ' says our immortal 
author; and what man, say I, ever became an 'actor ' without 
a long and sedulous apprenticeship? I know that many think 
"to step from behind a counter or jump from the high stool of 
an office to the boards, and take the town by storm in Richard 
or Othello, is 'as easy as lying.' O, the born idiots! they re- 
mind me of the halfpennj^ candles stuck in the windows on 
illumination nights ; they flicker and flutter their brief minute, 
and go out unheeded. Barn-storming, my lads, barn-storm- 
ing, — that's the touchstone ; by that I won my spurs; so did 
Garrick, Henderson and Kemble; and so, on the other side of 
the w T ater, did my almost namesake, Lekain, and Talma." 

Dr. Mathews has well said that "adversity is often like a 



180 ; "THE IMPERIAL HI&ftWAt". 

panther; look it boldly in the face, and it turns 
away from yon. It is with life's troubles as with the risks of 
the battle-field; there is always less Of aggregate danger tb- 
; the party that stands firm than to that which gives way, — 
the cowards being always cut down ingloriously in the fight. 
We are aware that it is hard to begin life without a dollar, 
hard to be poor, and harder to seem poor in the eyes of others. 
1^0 young man, especially no young man in our cities, likes to 
make his entree in life with his boots 'patched; to wear an an- 
tediluvian hat, and clean gloves, smelling of camphene and 
economy; nor to carry a cotton umbrella; nor to ask a girl to 
marry him; and live in the 'sky-parlor' of a cheap boarding- 
house. We all like to drive along smoothly, to have a. fine 
turnout, to have the hinges of life oiled, the backs padded, and 
•the seats cushioned. But such is not the road to success in 
any profession or calling; and if you are poor, and feel that 
you cannot climb the steeps of life unassisted, — that you must 
be carried in a vehicle, instead of trudging on foot along the 
dusty high way,— then confess your weakness, and seek your 
Hercules in the first heiress who is as wanting in judgment, as- 
you in nerve and resolution. Marry $5,000 a year, if you can, 
and be a stall-fed ox for the remainder of your, days. But do 
not, ., while thus 'boosted' into, boast of your success. .Do- 
not, while rising in the world like a balloon, ; by pressure from 
without instead of from within, fancy you have any claim to 
triumph." , i 

]N"o man should be discouraged because he does not get on 
rapidly in his calling from the start. In the more intellectual 
professions especially, it should be remembered that a solid 
character is not the growth of a day, that the mental faculties 
are not matured except by long and laborious culture. To- 
refine the taste, to fortify the reasoning faculty with its appro- 
priate discipline, to store the cells of the memory with varied 
and useful learning, to train all the powers of the mind sym- 
metrically, is the work of calm and studious years. A young 
man's education has been of little use to him if it has not 
taught him to check the fretful impatience, the eager haste to 



SUCCESS I:N BUSINESS LIFE. 18;1 

drink the cup of life,; the desire to exhaust the ; intoxicating 
draughts of ambition which is so characteristic of Young 
America. 

Handel, the composer, had a harpsichord, every key of 
which, by incessant practice, was hollowed like the bowl of a 
spoon. When an East-Indian is learning archery, he is com- 
pelled by his master to exercise the attitude and drawing the 
string to his ear for three months together, before he is suf- 
fered to set an arrow. "Half the intellectual of physical 
efforts which, put forth by some persons for petty or worth- 
less, perhaps shameful objects, would suffice, in many cases, if 
directedto noble ends, to place them on a level with the great 
lights of the age,— the superior intelligences of art, literature 
and science, — and to lay the foundation of a glory which 
might vie hereafter with that of ' the mighty dead.' And 
yet the cry of : most dullards, and of many who are not, is, M 
am too low in the scale; it is of no use, for me to try to rise;-! 
am not, and never shalL be, anybody.' But does a prisoner 
cling to his captivity and hug his: fetters because his dungeon 
is low and dark and noisome? No; he pants for the 'upper 
air' all the more aspiringly. . The very consciousness of his 
prostration should be a spur stimulating one to raise himself 
by all possible efforts." ..., , 

Again, Mr. > Smiles forcibly remarks that "the road to' suc- 
cess may be steep to climb, but it puts: to the proof, the ener- 
gies of liim: who would reach the summit. By experience 'a 
man soon learns how obstacles are to. be overcome by grap- 
pling with them, — how soft as silk the nettle becomes when 
it is boldly grasped, — and how powerful a principle of realiz- 
ing the object proposed, is : the moral conviction that we can 
and will accomplish it. Thus difficulties often fall away of 
themselves, before the determination to overcome them. In 
nine cases out of ten, if marched boldly up to they 'will flee 
away. Like thieves, they often disappear at a glance. What 
looked like insuperable obstacles, like some great mountain- 
chain in, our way,; frowning danger and trial, are found to be- 
come practicable when approached, and paths formerly uti- 



182 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

seen, though they may be narrow and difficult, open a way 
for us through the hills." 

Curran, the Irish orator, when a youth, had a strong defect 
in his articulation, and at school he was known as " stuttering 
Jack Curran." While he was engaged in the study of the law, 
and still struggling to overcome his defect, he was stung into 
eloquence by the sarcasms of a member of a debating club, 
who characterized him as "Orator Mum;" for, like Cowper, 
when he stood up. to speak, Curran had not on a previous oc- 
casion been able to utter a word. But the taunt raised his 
pluck; and he replied with a triumphant speech; This acci- 
dental discovery in himself of the gift of eloquence, encour- 
aged him to proceed in his studies with additional energy and 
vigor. He corrected his enunciation by reading aloud, em- 
phatically and distinctly, the best passages in our literature, 
for several hours every day, studying his features before a 
mirror, and adopting a method of gesticulation suited to his 
rather awkward and ungraceful figure. He also proposed 
cases to himself, which he detailed with as much care as if he 
had been addressing a jury. 

The well-known author and publisher, William Chambers r 
of Edinburgh, thus tells of his humble beginning. "My edu- 
cation was that which is supplied at the humble parish schools 
of Scotland; and it was only when I went to Edinburgh, a 
poor boy, that I devoted my evenings, after the labors of the 
day, to the cultivation of that intellect which the Almighty 
has given me. From seven or eight in the morning till nine 
or ten at night, was I at my business as a bookseller's appren- 
tice, and it was only during hours after these, stolen from 
sleep, that I could devote myself to study. I assure you that 
I did not read novels; my attention was devoted to physical 
science and other useful matters. During that period I taught 
myself French. I look back to those times with great pleas- 
ure, and am almost sony I have not to go through the same 
troubles again. I reaped more pleasure when I had not a six- 
pence in my pocket, studying in a garret in Edinburgh, than 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE 183 

I now find when sitting amidst all the elegances and comforts 
of a parlor." 

William Cobbett has told the interesting story of how he 
learned English Grammar, and, as a curious illustration of 
that brave man's pluck in grappling with a difficulty, we can- 
not do better than quote it here. "I learned grammar," he said 
"when I was a private soldier on the pay of sixpence a day. 
The edge of my berth, or that of my guard -bed, was my seat 
to study in; my knapsack was my bookcase; a bit of board 
lying on my lap was my writing-table; and the task did not 
demand anything like a year of my life. I had no money to 
purchase candle or oil; in winter time it was rarely that I 
could get any evening light but that of the fire, and only my 
turn even of that. And if I, under such circumstances, and 
without parent or friend to advise or encourage me, accom- 
plished this undertaking, what excuse can there be for any 
youth, however poor, however pressed with business, or how- 
ever circumstanced as to room or other conveniences? To buy 
a pen or a sheet of paper I was compelled to forego some por- 
tion of food, though in a state of half-starvation; I had no 
moment of time that I could call my own; and I had to read 
and to write amidst the talking, laughing, singing, whistling, 
and brawling of at least half a score of the most thoughtless 
men, and that, too, in the hours of their freedom from all con- 
trol. Think not lightly of the farthing that I had to give, now 
and then, for ink, pen or paper! That farthing was, alas! a 
great sum to me! I was as tall as I am now; I had great 
health and great exercise. The whole of the money, not ex- 
pended for us at market, was twopence a week for each man. 
I remember, and well I may ! that on one occasion I, after all 
necessary expenses, had, on a Friday, made shifts to have a 
half-penny in reserve, which I had destined for the purchase 
of a red-herring in the morning; but, when I pulled off my 
clothes at night, so hungry then as to be hardly able to endure 
life, I found that I had lost my half-penny! I buried my head 
under the miserable sheet and rug, and cried like a child! 
And again I say, if I, under circumstances like these, could 



18i£ THE IMPERIjA-L HIOHW-AY.. 

encounter and; overcome this task, is there, can there be, in 
the whole world, a youth to find an excuse for the no n -per- 
form ance?" V! 

Every student of American history will remember Sir Wil- 
liam Phipps, one of the early colonial governors of Massa- 
chusetts. '". His career furnishes a remarkable example of the 
power of will, and of perseverance, in the pursuit of a given 
object. He was one of twenty-six children (twenty-one sons 
and fiVe daughters) and was raised in the forests of the then 
province of Maine. William seems to have had a strong dash 
of Danish sea-blood in his veins, and did not take kindly to 
the quiet life of a shepherd in which he spent his early years. 
By nature bold and adventurous, he longed to become a sailor 
and roam through the world. He sought to join some ship; 
but not being able to find one, he apprenticed himself to a 
ship-builder, with whom he thoroughly learned his trade, ac- 
quiring the arts of reading and writing during his leisure 
hours. Having completed his, apprenticeship and removed to 
Boston, he wooed, and married- a widow of some means, after 
which he set up a little ship-building yard of his own, built a 
ship, and, putting to sea in her, he engaged in j the lumber 
trade, which he carried on in a plodding and laborious' way for 
the space of about ten years. . 

It happened that one day, whilst passing through the crooked 
streets' of old Boston, v he Overheard some sailors talking to 
each other of a wreck which^ had just taken place off the Ba- 
hamas; that of a Spanish ship, supposed to have much money 
on board. His adventurous spirit was at once kindled, and 
getting together a likely crew without loss of time, he set sail 
for the Baham as. The Wreck being well in -shore, he easily found 
it, and succeeded in recovering a great deal of its cargo, but 
very little money; and the result was, that he barely defrayed 
his expenses. His success had been such, however, as to stim- 
ulate his enterprising spirit; and when he was told of another 
and far more richly laden vessel, which had been Wrecked near 
Port de la Plata more than half a century before, he forthwith 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 185 

formed the resolution of raising the wreck, or at all events 
fishing up the treasure. 

Being too poor, however, to undertake such an enterprise 
without powerful help, he set sail for England, in the hope 
that he might there obtain it. The fame of his success in 
raising the wreck off the Bahamas had already preceded him. 
He applied direct to the government; and by his urgent en- 
thusiasm, he succeeded in overcoming the usual inertia of 
official minds; and Charles II. : eventually placed at his dis- 
posal the a Eose Algier," a ship of eighteen guns and ninety- 
five men, appointing him to the chief command. Phipps then 
set sail to find the Spanish ship, and fish up the treasure. He 
reached the coast of Hispaniola in safety; but how to find the 
sunken ship was the great difficulty. The fact of the wreck 
was more than fifty years old ; and Phipps had only the tradi- 
tionary rumors of the event to w T ork upon. There was a wide 
coast to explore, and an outspread ocean, without any trace 
whatever of the wrecked argosy beneath it. But the man was 
stout in heart, and full of hope. He set his seamen to work 
to drag the coast, and for weeks they went on fishing up sea- 
weed, shingle, and bits of rock. No occupation could be more 
trying to seamen, and they began to grumble together, and to 
whisper that the man in command had brought them on a 
fool's errand. 

At length the murmurs spoke aloud, and the men broke into 
open mutiny. A body of them rushed one day on to the quar- 
ter-deck, and demanded that the voyage should be relinquished. 
Phipps, however, was not aman to be intimidated; he seized 
the ringleaders, and sent the others back to their duty. It 
became necessary to bring the ship to anchor close to a small 
island for the purpose of repairs; and, to lighten her, the chief 
part of the stores were landed. Discontent still increasing 
among the crew, a new plot was laid among the men on 
shore to seize the ship, throw Phipps overboard, and start on 
a piratical cruise against the Spaniards in the South Seas. 
But Phipps frustrated their plans, had the goods reshipped 
under cover of loaded guns, got rid of a part of his crew, took 



186 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

on others and went about his work. Soon his vessel gave out 
and he was obliged to return to England for repairs. As he 
had been unsuccessful, many had lost faith in him, and he 
found it difficult to get another ship. After four years of ex- 
ertion however, during which time he lived in great poverty, 
he succeeded in raising the requisite means to start again. 
A company was formed, in twenty shares, the Duke of Albe- 
marle, son of General Monk, taking the chief interest in it, 
and subscribing the principal part of the necessary funds for 
the enterprise. 

Phipps proved more fortunate in his second voyage than in 
his first. The ship arrived without accident at Fort de la 
Plata, in the neighborhood of the reef of rocks supposed to 
have been the scene of the wreck. His first object was to 
build a stout boat capable of carrying eight or ten oars, in con- 
structing which Phipps used the adze himself. It is also said 
that he constructed a machine, for the purpose of exploring 
the bottom of the sea, similar to what is now known as the 
Diving-Bell. Such a machine was found referred to in books,, 
but Phipps knew little of scientific books and therefore 
may be said to have reinvented the apparatus for his own 
use. Pie also engaged Indian divers, whose feats of diving for 
pearls, and in submarine operations, were very remarkable. 
The tender and boat having been taken to the reef, the men 
were set to work, the diving-bell was sunk and the various- 
modes of dragging the bottom of the sea were employed con- 
tinuously for many weeks, but without any prospect of success. 
Phipps, however, held on valiantly, hoping almost against 
hope. At length, one day, a sailor, looking over the boat's side 
down into the clear water, observed a curious sea-plant grow- 
ing in what appeared to be a crevice of the rock; and he called 
upon an Indian diver to go down and fetch it for him. On 
the red man coming up with the weed, he reported that a num- 
ber of ship's guns were lying in the same place. The intelli- 
gence was at first received with incredulity, but on further 
investigation it proved to be correct. Search was made, and 
presently a diver came up with a solid bar of silver in his arms 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 187 

When Phipps was shown it, he exclaimed, " Thanks be to 
God! we are all made men." 

Diving-hell and divers now went to work with a will and in 
a few days treasure was brought up to the value of £300,000 
with which Phipps set sail for England. On his arrival, many 
government officials tried to seize the ship's cargo, and ap- 
pealed to the King for power. But the King replied that he 
knew Phipps to be an honest man and that he and his friends 
should have the whole of it. Phipps' share was about £20,000, 
and the King to show his approval of his energy, conferred upon 
him the honor of knighthood, and he became Sir William 
Phipps, founding the house of Norman by. He died in Lon- 
don in 1695, having done valiant service for the King as a 
military leader and royal ruler. He was never ashamed of the 
lowness of his origin, but continually referred to the fact with 
pride. Often, when perplexed with public business, he de- 
clared it would be easier for him to go back to his broad-axe 
again. He left behind him a noble character for honesty, 
courage, and energy. 



188 



THE ; IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



CHAPTER XII. 

Expenditure of Resources. 

He that ruleth his own spirit is greater than he that taketh a city. 

'Proverbs xvi : 32. 

No haughty gesture marks his gait, 
No pompous tone his word, 
No studied attitude is seen, 
No palling nonsense heard. 
He'll suit his bearing to the hour, 
Laugh, listen, learn, or teach. 

Eliza Cook. 

: The brave man is not he who feels no fear, 
For that were stupid and irrational ; ; ., 

But he whose noble soul its fear subdues. 

Joanna Baillie. 




HIS is an age when great attention is being paid to 
the development of speed in horses. Each season 
witnesses the lowering 'of the time-record in racing 
until the question of how much reserve power there is inclosed 
within the horse organization, has become an open one which 
years only can decide. But in the act of racing it is an easy 
thing to see which animals are capable of improvement, and 
which are not. A horse that is so nervous and fidgety that it 
can't stand still ; which exerts itself on every occasion to the 
point of exhaustion ; which never learns to keep cool and 
hold back, when necessary, and again to " let out an extra 
link or two," when called upon, never can become a great 
racer, for the simple reason that he expends his resources' as fast 
as he accumulates them. To grow better, an animal or a man 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS tiFE. 189 

must have alittle surplus of force left after each trial, or must 
have the internal capacity of generating new and extra power 
whenever occasion demands. 

There is neither pleasure nor profit in witnessing the work- 
ing of anything, whether it be man, animal, or machine, un- 
less it works easily, and possesses more resources of power 
than it expends. There is no such arithmetic in actual life as 
that which the old lady reckoned by, when she said -that her 
son in business lost on every article he manufactured but was 
able to get along by the enormous extent or amount of the 
business transacted. If a man ".uses himself up " at every 
effort he makes in trying to build his imperial highway to for- 
tune, that way will never be finished, nor the fortune secured. 
As the best drivers keep their horses well in hand and never 
let them out for all they are worth, except upon important 
occasions, so the most successful men in life's race are those 
who keep themselves well in hand, and keep in reserve some 
extra power or ability, with which to meet emergencies and 
eclipse competing rivals. 

It is said that all machinists construct engines with reserve 
power. If the force required is four-horse, they make a six- 
horse power, so that the machine will work easily and last 
long. In like manner, the man who has strength to do ten 
hours' work a day, physical or intellectual, should do but 
seven or eight ; and then he may hope to accumulate a reserve 
fund of energy which will not only round out his frame to 
fair proportions, and enable him to toil with ease, cheerful- 
ness and alacrity, but furnish a capital, a fund in bank, upon 
which he can draw heavily in any emergency, when called on 
to do two days' work in one. "Without this capital, he will 
not only do his work painfully, forever tugging at the oar, 
but he will be incapable of increasing the strain upon his 
powers, however urgent the necessity ; he cannot put a pound 
more of. pressure upon the engine without an explosion. 

There are indeed "some persons of dull and phlegmatic 
temperament — slow coaches, that jog on at a lazy pace — -who 
need no note of alar is*." They need the whip, not the rein; and 



190 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWA.Y. 

the utmost speed you can get out of them will only call their 
muscles into healthy activity. But there is another class, — 
the fiery, earnest, zealous men, the nervous men, tremulous as 
the aspen, enthusiasts in their callings, — who need to econ- 
omize their nerve-force, unless they would prematurely exhaust 
themselves and sink into an early grave. Such men need to 
be reminded that they have but a limited fund of strength, 
upon which they are making draughts with every breath they 
draw and every word they utter, and that therefore they can- 
not guard too jealously against any waste of their nerve- 
power." 

Hence, the first strong word of advice to every young man 
who wants to be successful is, accumulate, accumulate, accu- 
mulate. If you expect to lead a professional life, you cannot 
have too large a store of knowledge and facts laid up. It 
often seems to a student in college that he is merely wasting 
his time by going through with the routine exercises of the 
class-room, week after week and year after year ; that the stud- 
ies he is pursuing can never do him much, if any, good in 
after life; but he will find to his sweet satisfaction, when the 
duties of that after-life press upon him, and he has no time to 
hunt up facts and opinions, that not a day diligently spent in 
study in early years was lost; that all resources of an intellec- 
tual nature accumulated when thought and memory were fresh 
and vigorous were held by the mind as a sort of capital stock 
and came into use exactly when most wanted. Many a young 
man has ruined himself for life because he too soon thought 
he knew it all and could do anything, and then found out his 
mistake only when it was too late to recover the ground so 
foolishly lost. 

Everybody knows that in the composition of an army one 
of the first essentials of effective action is a well-constituted, 
powerful reserved force. It consists of picked men, trained 
veterans, with a cool, sagacious commander, who can be thrown 
at any moment into the very thick of the fight, to sustain a 
faltering legion, or to turn a doubtful combat into a decisive 
victory. The lack of such a force, or its lack of numbers and 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE, 191 

discipline, has often made the difference between a battle won 
and a battle lost. Who that is familiar with the campaigns 
of Napoleon does not remember how often the trembling scale 
was turned, and the exultant legions of the enemy were rolled 
back, just as victory was about "to sit eagle-winged on their 
crests," by the resistless charge of the imperial Guard '( So 
also at the bar, in the senate, in the pulpit, in the field of busi- 
ness, in every sphere of human activity, he only organizes 
victory and commands success behind whose van and corps of 
battle is heard the steady tramp of the army of the reserve. 

Says Dr. W. W. Patton, " the merchant is in a dangerous 
position whose means are in ^oods trusted out all over the 
country on long credits, and who in an emergency has no 
moneys in the bank upon which to draw. A heavy deposit, 
subject to a sight-draft, is the only position of strength. And 
he only is intellectually strong, who has made heavy deposits 
in the bank of memory, and can draw upon his faculties at any 
time, according to the necessities of the case." There is no 
mental reservoir of such capacity that it will not be empty at 
last, if we perpetually draw from it and never pour into it. 
When old Dr. Bellamy w T as asked by a young clergyman for 
advice about the composition of his sermons, he replied: 
"Fill up the cask ! fill up the cask! fill up the cask ! and then 
if you tap it anywhere you will get a good stream. But if 
you put in but little, it will dribble, dribble, dribble, and you 
must tap, tap, tap, and then you get but a small stream, 
after all." 

The second point to be emphasized is, keep cool, have your 
resources well in hand, and reserve your strength until the 
proper time arrives to exert it. There is hardly any trait of 
character or faculty of intellect more valuable than the power 
of self-possession, or presence of mind. The man who is al- 
ways "going off" unexpectedly, like an old rusty firearm, who 
is easily fluttered and discomposed at the appearance of some 
unforeseen emergency; who has no control over himself or his 
pow r ers, is just the one wdio is always in trouble and never suc- 
cessful or happy. It is very unfortunate when men lose their 



192 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

talents, wit, or fancy, at any sudden call. Better be like the 
Frenchman, M. Tissenet, who had learned among the Indians 
to understand their language, and who coming upon a wild 
party of Illinois, overheard them say that they would scalp 
him. He said to them, "Will you scalp me ? Here is my 
scalp," and confounded them by lifting a little periwig he 
wore. He then explained to them that he was' a great medi- 
cine-man, and that they did great wrong in wishing to harm 
him, who carried them all in his heart. So he opened his shirt 
a little and showed to each of the savages in turn the reflec- 
tion of his own eye-ball in a small pocket mirror which he had 
hung next to his skin. He assured them that if they should 
provoke him he would burn up their rivers and their forests; 
and, taking from his portmanteau a small phial of white 
brandy (which they believed to be water), he burned it be- 
fore their eyes. Then taking up a chip of dry pine, he drew 
a burning glass from his pocket and set the chip on fire. Of 
course, his presence of mind and rare courage saved his life. 

The great world of nature is always calm and silent when 
performing some of her mightiest operations, but the effect of 
what she does is always deepened and intensified by the sense 
of greater power which lies behind. And the same is true of 
the higher works of art. It has also been truly said that the 
great orator is not he who exhausts his subject and himself at 
every effort, but he whose expressions suggest a region of 
thought, a dim vista of imagery, an oceanic depth of feeling, 
beyond what is compassed by his sentences. He affects you 
hardly less by what he leaves out than by what he puts in. 
So the military leader who brings all his troops to the front 
has no resource when beaten; every defeat is a "Waterloo. Not 
so with the man who has always battalions in reserve; he fights 
more and more valiantly after each overthrow. Like Blucher 
at Ligny, he may be forced back from his position ; but he will 
retreat in good order, and in two days more the thunder of his 
guns will be heard at Waterloo, sending death and dismay 
into the ranks of his late victors. Like Washington, he may 
lose more battles than he wins; but he will organize victory 



SUCCESS *N fiUMESS : LIFE. 193 

out of defeat, and triumph in the end. Napoleon said of Mas- 
sena that he was not himself until the battle began to go against 
him; then— when the dead began to fall in windrows around 
him— awoke his marvelous power of combination, and he put 
on terror and victory as a robe. 

We all remember the gallant conduct, admirable coolness 
and resources of General Sheridan when he found his army 
retreating before the victorious Early. " O sir," said the Gen- 
eral in command, "we are beaten!" "'No, sir," was the re- 
ply; "you are beaten, but this army is not beaten;" and then, 
seizing his army as Jupiter his thunderbolt, he hurled it upon 
the enemy. In like manner, the great men of history are 
those who impress us with the fact that they themselves are 
greater than their deeds, and that they have mightier and vaster 
resources back, than any which they ordinarily display. This 
latent force acts directly by presence, and without means. 
Their victories are won by demonstration of superiority, not 
by crossing of bayonets. 

It has been often remarked that a speech never .seems truly 
great unless there is a man behind it who is greater than the 
speech. It was this which gave such prodigious power to the 
words of Chatham, and made them smite his adversaries like an 
electric battery. Men who listened to his oratory felt that he 
"put forth not half his strength," — that the man was far greater 
than anything he said. It was the magnetism of his person, 
the haughty assumption of superiority, the scowl of his im- 
perial brow, the ominous growl of his voice, "like thunder 
heard remote," and, above all, the evidence which these fur- 
nished of an imperious and overwhelming will, that abashed 
the proudest peers in the House of Lords, and made his words 
perform the office of staVs and blows. 

But the most memorable illustration of the value of cool- 
ness, courage and reserved force is furnished by the debate in 
the United States Senate in 1830, concerning the sale of the 
public lands. " The occasion," says a thoughtful writer, "was 
not a great one; the debate upon it for some days dragged 
heavily. The vast reserve power of one man made it the event 
13 



194 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. , . 

of our history for a generation. The second speech of Mr. 
Hayne, to which Mr. Webster was called upon to reply, was 
able and brilliant, its constitutional argument specious, its at- 
tack upon New England and upon Mr. Webster sharp even to 
bitterness. But Mr. Hayne did not understand this matter of 
reserved power. He had seen Mr. Webster's van and corps 
of battle, but had not heard the firm and measured tread be- 
hind. It was a decisive moment in Mr. Webster's career. He 
had no time to impress new forces, scarcely, time to burnish 
his armor. All eyes were turned to him. Some of his friends 
were depressed acd anxious. He was calm as a summer's morn- 
ing; calm, his friends thought, even to indifference. But his 
calmness was the repose of conscious power, the hush of na- 
ture before the storm. He had measured his strength He 
was in possession of himself. He knew the composition of his 
'army of the reserve.' He had the eye of a great commander, 
and he took in the whole field at a glance. He had the pro- 
phetic eye of logic, and he saw the end from the beginning. 
Thp exordium itself was the prophecy, the assurance of vic- 
tory. Men saw the sun oi* Austerlitz, and felt that the Im- 
perial Guard was moving on to the conflict. He came out of 
the conflict with /the immortal name of the Defender of the 
Constitution. 

"Of this speech, and of the mode of its delivery, one of the 
greatest of our orators has said, 'It has been my fortune to 
hear some of the ablest speeches of the greatest living orators 
on both sides of the water; but I must confess I never heard 
of anything which so completely realized my conception of 
what Demosthenes was when he delivered the Oration for the 
Crown.' I venture to add that, taking into view the cir- 
cumstances under which the speech was delivered, and espec- 
ially the brief time for preparation, the importance of the 
subject, the breadth of its views, the strength and clearness of 
its reasoning, the force and beauty of its style, its keen Wit, its 
repressed but subduing passion, its lofty strains of eloquence 
the audience to which it was addressed (a more than Eoman 
audience), its effect upon that audience and the larger audience 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE! 195 

of a grateful and admiring country, history has no nobler ex- 
ample of reserved power brought at once and effectively into 
action. The wretched sophistries of nullification and seces- 
sion were swept before his burning eloquence as the dry grass is 
swept by the fire of the prairies." In describing his feelings 
while making the speech we have just noticed, Mr. Web- 
ster is reported to have said to. a friend: "I felt,. as if every- 
thing I had ever seen or read or heard was floating before me 
in one grand panorama, and I had little else' to do than to 
reach up and cull a thunderbolt and hurl it at him !" i 

Many years ago a Mr. Whipple, of Bhode Island, had occa- 
sion to consult Daniel Webster touching an important law- 
case, — a case in which were presented many cross^-questions of 
law and equity, and so involved that it required days and 
weeks of hard labor to discover a channel-way over its shoals 
and amid its rocks. Meeting Mr. Whipple early in the morn- 
ing, Mr. Webster by dinner-time had threaded all the avenues 
and crosspaths of the labyrinth, and gave an opinion so clear 
and comprehensive that Mr. Whipple was constrained to ask 
him what had been his system of mental culture. In reply 
Mr. Webster observed* that it is a law of our natures that the 
body or the mind that labors constantly must necessarily labor 
moderately. He instanced the race-horse, which,: by occasional 
efforts in which all its power is exerted, followed by periods 
of entire rest, would, in time, add very largely to his speed; 
and the great walkers or runners of our race, who, from small 
beginnings, when fifteen miles a day fatigued them, would, in 
the end, walk off fifty miles at the rate of five or six miles an 
hour. He also mentioned the London porter, who, at the first 
staggering under the load of one hundred and fifty or two 
hundred pounds, would, in time, walk off with six or eight 
hundred pounds with apparent ease. The same law governs 
the mind. When employed at all, its powers should be exert- 
ed to the utmost. Its fatigue should be followed by its entire 
rest. Mr. Webster added that, whatever mental occupation 
employed him, he put forth all his power, and when his men- 



WQ THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

taLvisi on began to -obscure, he ceased entirely, and resorted to 
some amusement or light business as a relaxation. 

Dr. Mathews has well observed that "we live in an a^e of 
bustle and excitement; the click of the telegraph, the whistle 
of the locomotive, the whir of the machinery, is ever in our 
ears. The tendency of" the times is to force every man of abil- 
ity into great outward activity, and thereby in many cases to 
dam up and divert to the turning of this mill or that the 
stream which, if left unbroken, would have gathered volume 
enough to fertilize a vast tract of thought. Besides this, in 
our large towns every cultivated man is beset with a multi- 
plicity of social enjoyments and excitements, the very waste- 
pipes of spiritual powers; and the energies of the brain, in- 
stead of forming a fund that is continually deepening by influx 
from secret sources, are diffused and wasted on trivialties. 
Add to this the fact that the Americans are the most impatient 
people under the sun,— that we are not content to wait through 
long and weary years for the fruits of our toil, but, in the 
stockjobbers' phrase, are anxious "to realize" at once,— and 
can we wonder that so few of us accumulate the reserve power 
which is indispensable if we would do anything worthy of our 
faculties?" 

But no man can be cool, calm, self-collected and confident 
of victory, unless he knows surely that he has reserve forces 
which he can summon to his aid at a moment's call. The 
man who is poor within and knows that he is poor, is always 
ill at ease and ever fearful' of a surprise or an ambuscade from 
some real or imaginary foe. Nothing will give others such 
confidence in a man as to have him create the impression by 
his manner "that there is more in him than he constantly gives 
out; and in order to create' this impression, lawfully and prop- 
erly, there mus't actually he in him more resources than he 
daily expends. Therefore, unless some great prize is before 
you, or some all-important issue is at stake — something that 
demands the exercise of every faculty you possess and the put- 
ting forth of all your strength— it will be better to husband 
your resources and have a little accumulated fund of power, 



SUCCESS • IN . :B-FSINESS LIFE. '197 

ability or knowledge on hand, than to work up to the full 
measure of your capacity each day and hour, and then, when 
some unlooked-for crisis comes on and you need; extra; force, 
find yourself a physical or intellectual bankrupt,, and in immi- 
nent danger of collapse. ...,-■ 

An old teamster used to say to his sons when they had a 
peculiarly long and hard drive to make in a given time, 
'■ u Boys, you'll be sure to get there, if you don't drive too hard 
when you first start." And there is much of good, sound 
philosophy wrapped up in the old man's pithy remark. As 
another has observed, "to serve a long and weary apprentice- 
ship to any calling, to spend years. in training the faculties till 
•one has become an athlete, costs, we know, patience and self- 
denial; but is it not the cheapest in the end? Does not all 
experience show that in the long run it is easier to he than to 
seem, — to acquire power than to hide the lack of it? Was 
there ever a lazy boy at school, or student in college, who did 
not take infinitely more pains to dodge recitations and to mask 
his ignorance than would have been necessary to master his 
lessons, however dry or crabbed? Is there a mechanic who 
scrimps his work, that does not cheat himself in the end? 
Depend upon it, nothing is more exhausting than the shifts to 
cover up ignorance, the endless contrivances to make nothing 
pass for something, tinsel for gold, shallowness for depth, 
emptiness for fullness, cunning for wisdom, sham for reality." 

When a man once breaks down, or " plays out" — to use a 
common expression — his career is necessarily arrested, and he 
becomes like a steamship in mid-ocean with her fires out or en- 
gines disabled. The great criminal lawyer, Rufus Choate, was 
an example of this kind. He persisted in transgressing the laws 
■of his physical and mental natures, worked away like a blazing 
locomotive at every case he took hold of, whether petty or im- 
portant, and died an exhausted, worn-out man when he should 
have been in the very fullness and ripeness of his years- 
Therefore, we say to every worker in the world's great hive, 
husband your resources, accumulate power, facts and wisdom 



198 - • THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

faster than yon expend them, and always try to be richer and 
strpnger within, than you appear on the surface. Beaumont 
anql Fletcher say, . 

' l ; ( • '' '■ - ; '■-' ' An honest soul is like a ship at sea, 

That rides at ease when the ocean's calm, 
. _ : , But when she rages and the wind blows high, 
He cuts his way with skill and majesty. 




SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 190 



CHAPTEK XIII. 

Business Traits, Qualities and Habits. 

His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles; 
His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate; 
His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth 

Shakespere. 

" Habit at first is but a silken thread, 
Fine as the light-winged gossamers that sway 
In the warm sunbeams of a summer's day ; 
A shallow streamlet, rippling o'er its bed ; \ 

A tiny sapling, ere its roots are spread; 
A yet unhardenecl thorn upon the spray ; 
A lion's whelp that hath not scented prey ; 
A little smiling child obedient led. , 

Beware ! that thread may bind thee as a chain ; 
That streamlet gather to a fatal sea; 
That sapling spread into a gnarled tree; 
That thorn, grown hard, may wound and give thee pain 
That playful whelp his murderous fangs reveal : 
That child, a giant, crush thee 'neath his heel." 

" Real glory 
Springs from the silent conquest of ourselves, 
And without that the conqueror is naught 
But the veriest slave." 

ilERE are a number of valuable and indispensable 
traits of character, qualities of mind, and habits of 
life, which, when grouped together, go a great ways 
towards making up the successful man of business; and some 
of these we will now mention and illustrate. And first we 
place the trait called 

decision of character. 

In one respect, this trait is similar to that of " Force of 
Will," which has previously been discussed. Still, there is an 




200 THE IIMPEKIAL HIGHWAY. 

important difference between them. We stated in that chap- 
ter that the four principal elements entering into the compo- 
sition of a well-balanced and perfectly-furnished man, were a 
sound body, a large brain, a strong will, and a good heart — 
the will being the President or Executive force over all.. In 
a man of decision, however, the will occupies only the second 
post of honor, and Brain comes to the front. In plain lan- 
guage, this trait of character consists in the power of making 
up one's mind on any question which arises, instantly, intel- 
ligently and firmly. Neither one of these three characteris- 
tics can be left out. If a man stops and hesitates when he 
ought to act quickly, he is not, and cannot be, a man of deci- 
sion. If he decides blindly or rashly, it will be equally fatal 
with the first delect. If he decides, and then repents, and 
then re-decides, he is also unstable and unreliable. So that 
all t'iree of the ingredients mentioned must enter into each 
decisive act, in order to make it decisive. 

As we said' before, the 1 will in this act only takes the second 
place; it is the brain which comes into play first in determin- 
ing upon any given course, and then after one's mind is made 
up, the intellect hands over the matter to the will for execu- 
tion, just as a General on the field gives an order to his aid- 
de-camp to carry out. This previous act of the mind is called 
resolution; as Churchill puts it, 

Men make resolves, and pass into decrees 
The motions of the mind. : > 

To be a resolute man, is to be a brave man, a determined 
man, and a far-seeing man. Indeed, there is hardly any intel- 
lectual exercise which is more difficult, or of a higher nature, 
than, this power of instant, intelligent, and firm resolve, which 
is the first step towards exercising decision oi character. , It 
requires both insight and foresight; a knowledge of men and 
of things, and of laws and forces in nature and life; that pro- 
phetic power so happily described by Philip James Bailey, 
when he says: , 



SUCCESS; -IN BUSINESS LIFE. 20 1 

! There are points from which we can command our life; ; 
When the soul sweeps the future like a glass; 
And coming things, fall-freighted with our fate, 
Jut out on the dark offing of the mind. : : ; 

One writer has gone so far as to say that " decision of mind, 
like vigor of body, is a gift of.G-od. It cannot be created by 
human effort." But then ? apparently frightened at the bold- 
ness and sweeping nature, of his declaration, he. adds: " Every 
man has the germ of this quality, which can be cultivated by 
favorable circumstances, and motives presented to the mind; 
and by method and order in the prosecution of his duties or 
tasks, he may by habit greatly augment, his will-power, or be- 
get a frame of mind , so nearly resembling resolution that it 
would be difficult to distinguish between the two." 

But the confusion in. this, writer's thought arises from his 
imperfect analysis, from not distinguishing between resolution 
as ; the previous ,act of intellect, and will-power as the subse- 
quent executive force, of the mind. John Foster, in his cele- 
brated essay, comes nearer the truth when he says: "Could the 
histories of all the persons remarkable for decisive character 
be known,it would be found that the majority of them have 
possessed great constitutional firmness. By this is not meant 
an exemption from disease and pain, nor any certain measure 
of mechanical strength, but a tone of vigor,. the opposite to 
lassitude, and., adapted to great exertion and endurance." . 

So much, then,, for the definition of the nature of this trait 
of character; now concerning its importance there will be no 
question. A hesitating, undecided man is ; invariably pushed 
aside in the race of life. "Many men," says Ca.rlyle, " long 
for the merchandise of life, yet would fain keep the price, and 
so , stand chaffering with fate in vexatious altercation, till the 
night shuts in and the fair is over." Sidney Smith has well 
and wittily said, that " in order to do. anything in this world 
that is worth doing, we must not stand shivering on the bank 
and thinking of the cold and, the danger, but jump in and 
scramble through as, well as: we. can. It will not do to be per r 
petually calculating and adjusting; nice. chances; it did all very 



202 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

well before the Flood, when a ruan could consult his friends 
upon an intended publication for a hundred and fifty years, 
and then live to see its success for six or seven centuries after- 
wards; but at present a man waits, and doubts, and hesitates, 
and consults his brother, and his uncle, and his first-cousins, 
and his particular friends, till one day he finds that he is sixty- 
five years of age, — that he has lost so much time in consult- 
ing first-cousins and particular friends, that he has no more 
time left to follow their advice." 

Nearly every great movement, and especially every great 
battle in the world, has turned on one or two rapid movements 
executed amid the whirl of smoke and the thunder of guns. 
It was at such moments that the mind of Napoleon shone 
forth in transcendent splendor. His thought acted like light- 
ning, and never with more promptness and precision than in 
moments of the greatest confusion and danger. He always 
calculated the value of moments, and won a battle once by 
sending his troops to a given point ten minutes before the 
enemy came up. At the celebrated battle of Rivoli the day 
seemed on the point of being decided against him. He saw 
the critical state of affairs, and instantly formed his resolu- 
tion. He dispatched afiag to the Austrian headquarters, with 
proposals for an armistice. Napoleon seized the precious 
moments, and, while amusing the enemy with mock negotia- 
tions, rearranged his line of battle, changed his front, and, in a 
few moments, was ready to renounce the farce of discussion 
for the stern arbitrament of arms. The splendid victory of 
Rivoli was the result. ' 

Another signal example of this promptness of decision oc- 
curs at an earlier date in Napoleon's career. He had made 
his wondrous burst into Northern Italy, and had driven the 
Austrian troops before him like sheep. Hardly anything was 
wanting to the conquest of Lombard y but the taking of Man- 
tua, to which he devoted 10,000 of his troops. At this junc- 
ture he heard of the corning of a new Austrian army consisting 
of 60,000 men, while he had in all but 40,000. By marching 
quickly along the banks of the Lake of Garda they cut off his 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. '203 

retreat to Milan, and thus greatly endangered his position; but, 
as the Austriaus came on both sides of the lake, 20,000 on 
the one and 40^000 on the other, Napoleon most wisely deter- 
mined to take a position at the end of the lake, so as to be 
between the two parties when they should attempt to unite. 
" By rapidly forming a main mass," says the historian, M. 
Thiers, "the French might overpower 20,000 who had turned 
the lake, and immediately after return to the 40,000 who had 
defiled between the lake and the Adige. But, to occupy the 
extremity of the lake, it was necessary to call in all the troops 
from Legnago, and from Mantua, for so extensive a line was 
no longer tenable. This involved a great sacrifice, for Mantua 
had been beseiged during two months, a considerable batter- 
ing-train had been transported before it, the fortress was on 
the point of capitulating, and by allowing it to be revictualled, 
the fruits of these vigorous efforts, an almost assured prey, 
would escape his grasp. 

Napoleon, however, did not hesitate. Between the two im- 
portant objects he had the sagacity to seize the most important 
and sacrifice it to the other, — a simple resolution in itself, but 
one which displays not only the great captain, but the great 
man. It is not in war merely; it occurs in politics, and in all 
the situations of life, that men encounter two objects, and, 
aiming to compass both, fail in each. Bonaparte possessed 
that rare and decisive vigor which prompts at once the choice 
and the sacrifice. Had he persisted in guarding the whole 
course of the Mincio, from the extremity of the Lake of Garda 
toMantna, he would have been pierced. By concentrating on 
Mantua to cover it, he would have had 70,000 men to cope 
with at the same time, — 60,000 in front and 10,000 in the rear. 
He sacrificed Mantua, and concentrated at the point of the 
Lake of Garda." The results of this rapid decision were a 
brilliant reward of the masterly genius he had displayed. 
Meeting first the corps of 20,000 under Quasdanovich, he drove 
back its vanguard; whereupon the Austrian general, surprised 
to find everywhere imposing masses of the French, was 
alarmed, and resolved to halt till he should hear from the other 



204 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY.,; 

corps under Wurmser. Guessing what ^ was, ; spasming ; in 
the Austrian general's mind, Napoleon, turned to meet the 
other corps. Wurmser had divided his force, himself marching 
on to Mantua, and leaving 20,000 behind: to capture Napoleon. 
Their army advanced with widespread wings as if to envelop* 
tlie French, but Napoleon broke through its, center; and com- 
pelled it to retreat. Other battles followed and in six days 
the Austrian generals were flying back jto the Tyrol, haying 
lost the kingdom of Lombarcly and 20,000 men. i ; 

At the Close of his career, Napoleon; himself made the same 
mistake which the Austrians did, and wasted precious hours 
before, on, and: after the day of Ligny and on the morning of 
Waterloo^ when he should have fallen ; on ; the enemy like a 
thunderbolt. Wellington, on the other hand, who never lost 
a battle, manifested the. same decisiveness and promptitude to 
the very end of his. military life. An amusing instance of the 
old Duke's presence of mind and coolness in a time of danger 
is the reply which he is said to have made ,to r the captain of a 
vessel in wfrich lie was sailing. There was a: terrible storm, 
and the captain fearing shipwreck, cameito him in' great; af- 
fright and said, " It will soon be all over with us.'' Yery 
well, replied the Duke, then I shall not take off my boots.. 
Again, when a certain commissary-general complained to the 
Duke that Sir Thomas Pioton had declared that he would hang 
him if the rations for that general's division were not forth- 
coming at a certain hour, the Duke replied,: "Ah! did he go 
so far as that? Did he say he'd hang you? " "Yes, tny lord." 
"Well, if General Picton said so, I have no doubt ;he will keep 
his word; } T ou'd better get up the rations in time,'' 

It has been well said that all wisdom is a system of balances* 
or, better still, a golden mean between two extremes. Of 
course there is always a point where decision passes into rash- 
ness, as there are always some subjects which require the ut- 
most deliberation before any safe and definite conclusion can 
be reached concerning them. One of these subjects^ : as has 
already been indicated in a previous chapter, is the choice of a 
vocation in life. But. on the other hand, there are < numerous 



SUCCESS -IN' BUSINESS 'LIFE. 20 # 

exigencies in 'every man's life when there is not a moment 
to be lostj when a decision must be rendered instantly, and 
then, without this faculty under consideration, a man's fortune 
and welfare are liable to be greatly endangered. To never 
know what to do, or to debate like Coleridge which side of the 
road jo take during a whole journey, is to miserably fail when 
important emergencies arrive. Many a business man has 
made his fortune by promptly deciding at some nice juncture 
to expose himself to a considerable risk. To know when to 
sacrifice a little to win a great deal, when to abandon important 
minor objects to accomplish a great end, exacts the soundest 
judgment, : and the decision has sometimes to be made in a 
moment's . thought. There are two supreme moments, says 
Browning, in a diver's life; 

One when, a beggar, lie prepares to plunge; 
One when, a prince, he rises with his pearl, 

and the same is true in every working career. 

A lawyer must needs have his wits about him, as there are 
only about so many possibilities in every case, and he who 
knows. these best will generally win. When on trial, too, all 
unexpected developments must be attended to at the moment. 
The same thing is true of a physician. As the patient grows 
nervous and frightened, , the doctor must grow cool and col- 
lected. X>r. John Brown, speaking of this quality in a physi- 
cian, well observes: ><It is a curious condition of mind that 
th'js, requires. It is like sleeping with your pistol under your 
pijlow,, and the pistol on full cock; a moment lost, and all 
may be lost. There is the very nick of time. Men, when 
they have done some signal feat of presence of mind, if asked 
how they did it, do not very well know, — they just did it. It 
was in fact done, and then thought of; not thought of and then 
done, in which case it would most likely never have been done 
at. all. . To act thus, requires one of the highest powers of 
mind." There are some men, that remind one of Voltaire's 
sarcasm npon the French author, La Harpe, whom he called 
an "oven that was always heating up, but which never cooked 



206 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

anything." These men never get ahead an inch, because they 
are always hugging some cowardly maxim or other, such as, 
"A bird in hand is worth two in the bush, etc." 

Now, there is always more or less of truth in proverbs, but 
proverbs should always go in pairs, as they contain only half- 
truths, and can always be matched with reverse or opposite 
"saws," just as true as themselves. The reader will remem- 
ber those two about "a rolling stone," and " the setting hen," 
which just balance each other. Also this: "It is an ill wind, 
etc.," which turned around is equally true, lor that indeed 
must be a good wind which blows no one any hurt — especially 
if the wind happens to be a modern cyclone. John Foster is 
about the highest authority on this subject, and he says : " A 
man without decision can never be said to belong to himself; 
since, if he dared to assert that he did, the puny force of some 
cause, about as powerful as a spider^, may make a seizure of 
the unhappy boaster the very next moment, and contemptuous- 
ly exhibit the futility of the determinations by which he was 
to have proved the independence of his understanding and will. 
He belongs to whatever can make capture of him; and one 
thing after another vindicates its right to him, by arresting 
him while he is trying to go on; as twigs and chips, floating 
near the edge of a river, are intercepted by every weed and 
whirled in every little eddy. Having concluded on a design, 
he may pledge himself to accomplish it— if the hundred di- 
versities of feeling which may come within the week will let 
him. His character precluding all foresight of his conduct, 
he may sit and wonder what form and direction his views and 
actions are destined to take to-morrow ; as a farmer lias often 
to acknowledge that next day's proceedings are at the disposal 
of its winds and clouds." 

A melancholy example of this is furnished by the life of Sir 
James Mackintosh, whom Sir Henry Lytton Bulwer, in his 
" Historical Characters," terms "The Man of Promise." The 
career of Sir James was a perpetual struggle between that 
which he desired to be and that for which his talents litted 
him. At the University of Aberdeen he was alike remarkable 



SUCCESS LN BUSINESS LIFE. 207 

for his zeal in politics. and }iis love for metaphysics, — that is, 
for his alternate coquetry between an active and a meditative 
life. At Edinburgh, also, where he went to study medicine, it 
was the same thing. Spending his mornings in poetical lucu- 
brations, his evenings in making speeches at a "spouting" 
club, he gave little attention to the study of medicine till ab- 
solute necessity compelled him. He then applied himself with 
a start to that which he was obliged to know; but his diligence 
was not of that resolute and steady kind which insures success 
as the consequence of a certain period of application; and, 
after rushing into the ; novelties of "The Brunonian System," 
which promised a knowledge of medicine with little labor, and 
then rushing back again, he tried to establish himself as a med- 
ical practitioner at Salisbury and Weymouth in England, but, 
getting no patients, retired, disgusted and wearied, to Brussels. 
He next dabbled in politics; wrote the famous pamphlet, 
" Vindicise Gallic ee," in reply to Burke; delivered soon aftei 
at Lincoln's Inn a course of learned and eloquent lectures on 
Public Law, which were received with great enthusiasm; de- 
fended M. Peltier in a speech at the bar, which was, read with 
admiration not only in England, but on the Continent, and, 
though he lost his cause, led him to be considered no less 
promising as a pleader; became Recorder of Bombay; returned 
to England, and, feeling that "it was time to be something 
decided," resolved «"to exert himself to the utmost" if he 
could get a seat in Parliament; entered the House, of Com- 
mons, and made several remarkable speeches; accepted a pro- 
fessorship at the same time in Haileybury College, projected 
a great historical work which he never completed, and finally, 
when near the end of his life, stung by the thought that, he 
had accomplished nothing worthy of himself, crowded into 
three years what he ought to have done long before in ten, and 
left nothing behind him but broken columns and unfulfilled 
designs. 

One of the great defects in the character of Charles V.? 
Emperor of Germany, was his slowness of decision in the 
cabinet and in the field. Had he been prompt and decisive, 



208 THE IMPERIAL mGHWAY: 

he might have crushed the Reformation in the hud. Colighi, 
one of the champions of Protestantism in France, who per- 
ished in the massacre of St. Bartholomew, had a similar defect. 
A braver man never lived, but he lacked both decision and en- 
ergy. On the contrary it is told of Pellissier, the hero of the 
Crimea, that, getting angry one morning, with a sub-officer of 
a cavalry regiment, he cut him across the face with a whip. 
The man drew a pistol and attempted to explode it in the face 
of his chief; but it missed fire. Uttering a fearful oath, but 
otherwise calm, "Fellow!" said the grim chief of the 
Zouaves, "I order you a three day's arrest for not having your 
arms in better order." 

Some forty years ago murder was so rife in Havana that it 
seemed literally to be cultivated as one of "the fine arts, to use 
De Quincey's phrase; and the city, if less libidinous, was prob- 
ably more blood-stained than Sodom or Gomorrah. Yet, in 
a short time, by the vigor and decision of one man, this hid- 
eous state of things was entirely changed; and through Ha- 
vana then, as through England under Alfred, or through 
Geneva now, the ■•most gently nurtured woman could walk at 
midnight with a female attendant, unscared and unharmecll 
One night a murder was committed and Tacon, the Chief of 
Police, heard in the morning that the perpetrator was still at 
large. He summoned the prefect of the department in which 
the crime was committed. "How is thi's, sir? a man mur- 
dered at midnight, and the murderer not yet arrested?" "May 
it please your Excellency, it is impossible. We do not even 
know who it is." Tacon saw the officer was lying. "Hark 
you, sir. Bring me this murderer before night, or I'll garrote 
you to-morrow morning." The officer knew his man, and the 
assassin was forthcoming. 

Avoid, then, as you would the plague, being the kind of 
man described many years ago in the "London Spectator." 

A. man so various that he seemed to be 
Not one, but all mankind's epitome; 
Stiff in opinion, always in the wrong, 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 209 

Everything by starts, and nothing long. 
But in the course of one revolving moon, 
Was chemist, fiddler, statesman and buffoon. 

Hugh Miller has told how, by an act of youthful decision, 
he saved himself from one of the strong temptations so pecu- 
liar to a life of toil. When employed as a mason, it was usual 
for his fellow-workmen to have an occasional treat of drink, 
and one day two glasses of whiskey fell to his share, which he 
swallowed. When he reached home, he found, on opening his 
favorite book, — "Bacon's Essays," — that the letters danced 
before his eyes, and that he could no longer master the sense. 
"The condition," he says, "into which I had brought myself 
was, I felt, one of degradation. I had sunk, by my own act, 
for the time, to a lower level of intelligence than that on which 
it was my privilege to be placed; and though the state could 
have been no very favorable one for forming a resolution, I in 
that hour determined that I should never again sacrifice my 
capacity of intellectual enjoyment to a drinking usage; and 
with God's help, I was enabled to hold my determination." 
It is such decisions as this that often form the turning-point 
in a man's life, and furnish the foundation of his future char- 
acter. 

METHOD. 

We come now to personal habits which are essential to busi- 
ness success. Habits of all kinds play a more important part 
m human life than most people realize. What is done once 
and again, soon becomes a kind of second nature from which 
it is almost impossible to break away. Lord Brougham said 
in reference to the training of youth, " I trust everything 
under God to habit, on which, in all ages, the lawgiver, as 
well as the schoolmaster, has mainly placed his reliance ; habit, 
which makes everything easy, and casts the difficulties upon 
the deviation from a wonted course." Character is always 
weakest where it has once given way, just as a water-dyke is 
most treacherous where the current has once broken through. 
A principle restored can never become as strong as one that 
41 



210 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

lias never been moved. In fact, principles themselves are but 
the names which we give to habits, for the principles are but 
words, while the habits are the things in reality. The small 
acts of life, taken singly, are like the snowflakes which fall one 
by one, but when accumulated, they constitute the resistless 
avalanche. Montaigne, in one of his essays, says of custom or 
habit, " She is a violent and treacherous' schoolmistress. She, 
by little and little, slyly and unperceived, slips in the foot of 
her authority, but having by this gentle and humble begin- 
ning, with the aid of time, fixed and established it, she then 
unmasks a furious and tyrannic countenance, against which we 
have no more the courage nor the power so much as to lift up 
our eyes." 

The habit at first may seem no stronger than a spider's web, 
but when once rooted and formed it becomes a chain of iron. 
"Remember," said Lord Collingwood to a young man, "be- 
fore you are five-and-twenty you must establish a character 
that will serve or ruin you for life." Even happiness may 
become a matter of habit, that is, a man can accustom himself 
to look upon the bright or upon the dark side of things. Dr. 
Johnson said that the habit of looking upon the best side of 
things was worth to a man mure than a thousand pounds a 
year. Old men, accustomed to certain ways in life, find it 
exceedingly difficult to change those ways. Thus Lord 
Karnes tells of a man who, having relinquished the sea for a 
country life, reared in the corner of his garden an artificial 
mount with a level summit, resembling most accurately a quar- 
ter-deck, not only in shape, but in size, where he generally 
walked. When Franklin was superintending the erection of 
some forts on the frontier, as a defense against the Indians, he 
slept at night in a blanket on the hard floor, and, on his first 
return to civilized life, could hardly sleep in a bed. Captain 
Ross and his crew, having been accustomed during their polar 
wanderings to lie on the frozen snow or on the bare rock, 
afterwards found the accommodations of a whaler too luxurious 
for them, and he was obliged to exchange his hammock for a 
chair. 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 211 

Among good business habits, method holds an important 
place. In the past ages, before the invention of the steam- 
engine and the electric telegraph, when commerce had a nar- 
row range, but few faculties of the mind were called into play 
by business; but to-day, when submarine cables are making of 
the whole world a whispering gallery, and the fluctuations of 
one market are felt in every other, when so varied a knowledge 
and so constant a watchfulness are necessary to success, method 
becomes doubly important. In fact, there is hardly any kind 
of business which does not demand system. Commissioners 
of insolvency say that the books of nine bankrupts out of ten 
are always found to be in a perfect muddle — kept without 
plan or method. It is easy enough to sneer at " red tape" and 
formality, but "an intelligent method, which surveys the 
whole work before it, and assigns the several parts to distinct 
times and agents, which adapts itself to exigencies, and keeps 
ever in its eye the object to be attained, is one of the most 
powerful instruments of human labor. The professional or 
business man who despises it will never do anything well. It 
matters not how clever or brilliant he is, or how fertile in ex- 
pedients, if he works without system, catching up whatever 
is nearest at hand, or trying to do half a dozen things at once, 
he will sooner or later come to grief." 

The importance of system in the discharge of daily duties 
was strikingly illustrated in the experience of Dr. Kane when 
he was locked up among the icebergs of the Arctic Circle, with 
the prospect of months of dreary imprisonment. With his 
men enfeebled by disease and privations, and when all but 
eight of his company had left him to search for a way of es- 
cape, he sustained the drooping spirits of the handful who 
clung to him, and kept up their energies, by a systematic per- 
formance of duties and moral discipline. " It is," he observes, 
" the experience of every man who has either combated diffi- 
culties himself or attempted to guide others through them, 
that the controlling law shall be systematic action. Nothing 
depresses and demoralizes so much as a surrender of the ap- 
proved and habitual forms of life. I resolved that everything 



212 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

should go on as it had done. The arrangement of hours, the- 
distribution and details of duty, the religious exercises, the- 
ceremonials of the table, the fires, the lights, the watch, the 
labors of the observatory, and the notation of the tides and the 
sky, — nothing should be intermitted that had contributed to 
make up the day." 

William Cecil, afterwards, Lord Burleigh, said of method, 
it " is like packing things in a box ; a good packer will get in 
half as much again as a bad one." Cecil's dispatch of busi- 
ness was extraordinary, his maxim being, " The shortest way 
to do many things is to do only one thing at once;" and he 
never left a thing undone when it could be attended to* at the 
time. He would rather encroach on his hours for meals than 
omit any part of Iris work. De Witt's maxim also was: "One: 
thing at a time. If I have dispatches to make, I think of 
nothing else until they are finished; if other affairs demand 
my attention, I give myself wholly to them until done.' 
Besides this, all peculiarly important affairs should be attend- 
ed to in person. An indolent country gentleman in England, 
had a freehold estate producing about five hundred a year. 
Becoming involved in debt, he sold half of the estate, and let 
the remainder to an industrious farmer for twenty years. 
About the end of the term the farmer called to pay his rent,, 
and asked the owner whether he would sell the farm. " Will 
you buy it?" asked the owner, surprised. " Yes, if we can 
agree about the price." "That is exceedingly strange," ob- 
served the gentleman; "pray, tell me how it happens that 
while I could not live upon twice as much land, for which I 
paid no rent, you are regularly paying me two hundred a 
year for your farm, and are able, in a few years, to purchase 
it." " The reason is plain," was the reply; "you sat still and 
said Go; I got up and said Come; you laid in bed and en- 
joyed your estate, I rose in the morning and minded my busi- 
ness." Sir Walter Scott, writing to a youth who had obtained 
a situation and asked him for his advice, gave him in reply 
this sound counsel: "Beware of stumbling over a propensity 
which easily besets you from not having: your time fully em- 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 213 

ployed, — I mean what the women call dawdling. Do instantly 
whatever is to be done, and take the hours of recreation after 
business, never before it." 

Another good business trait is 

PUNCTUALITY. 

Indeed, there can be few worse traits in a business man 
than to be continually behind time in his engagements. If a 
man's word or appointments cannot be depended upon, he is 
sure to . be mistrusted and then neglected altogether. Lost 
weal tii may be replaced by industry, Jost knowledge by study, 
lost health by temperance, but lost time is gone forever. Lord 
Nelson once said, " I owe all my success in life to having been 
always a quarter of an hour before my time." He who holds 
to his appointment and does not keep you waiting for him, 
shows that he has regard for your time as well as for his Own. 
Thus punctuality is one of the modes by which we testify our 
personal .respect for those whom we are called upon to meet in 
the business of life. It is also conscientiousness in a measure; 
for an appointment is a contract, express or implied, and he 
who does not keep it, breaks faith as well as dishonestly uses 
other people's time, and thus inevitably loses character. We 
naturally come to the conclusion that the person who is care- 
less about time, will be careless about business, and that he 
"is not the one to be trusted with the transaction of matters of 
importance. When Washington's secretary excused himself 
for the lateness of his attendance, and laid the blame upon his 
watch, his master quietly said, " Then you must get another 
watch, or I another secretary." 

It is said of Lord Brougham, that when he was in the full 
career of his profession,* presiding in the House of Lords and 
the Court of Chancery, he found time to be at the head of 
some eight or ten public associations, — one of which w T as the 
Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, — and that he 
was most punctual in his attendances, always contriving to be 
in the chair when the hour of meeting had arrived. To steal 
another's time by delay, is nearly or quite as bad as to steal 



214 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

his property, because in consuming another's time by careless 
neglect you take away from him that which can be converted 
into direct and immediate capital. Indeed, all money is earned 
by time and labor. In one of Dickens' stories there is a char- 
acter whom he names " Captain Cuttle." The Captain was a 
very eccentric man and had a watch as eccentric as himself. 
He used to say that " if he could remember to set it ahead 
half an hour in the forenoon, and back quarter of an hour in 
the afternoon, it would keep time with anybody's watch." Too 
many business men have watches of a similar kind, it is to be 
feared, and the result is, they are always late at the counting- 
room, late at the railway station, late in getting letters into 
the mail. Business is thus thrown into confusion, and every 
one concerned is put out of temper. 

How many persons have been ruined by neglecting for a 
day, or even an hour, to renew an insurance policy ! How 
many merchants are made bankrupts by delays of their cus- 
tomers in paying their notes or accounts! Often the failure of 
one man to meet his obligations promptly, causes the ruin of 
a score of other men, just as in a line of bricks the toppling 
down of the master brick necessitates the fall of all the rest. 

John Quincy Adams, who filled a greater number of impor- 
tant offices, political and civil, than has any other American, 
was pre-eminently punctual. He was an economist of mo- 
ments, and was never known to be behind time. His reputa- 
tion in this respect was such that when in old age he was 
a member of the House of Representatives at "Washington, and 
a gentleman observed that it was time to call the House to 
order, another replied, "No, Mr. Adams is not in his. seat." 
The clock, it was found, was actually three minutes too fast; 
and before three minutes had elapsed, Mr. Adams was at his 
post. 

"When "a regiment is under march," writes Sir Walter 
Scott, "the rear is often thrown into confusion because the 
front does not move steadily. And it is the same with busi- 
ness. If that which is first in hand be not regularly dispatch- 
ed, other things accumulate behind until affairs begin to press 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 215 

all at once, and no human brain can stand the confusion." 
Napoleon studied his watch as closely as he studied the maps 
of the battle-field. His victories were not won by consummate 
strategy merely, but by impressing his subordinates with the 
necessity of punctuality to the minute. Maneuvering over 
large spaces of country, so that the enemy was puzzled to de- 
cide where the blow would fall, he would suddenly concentrate 
his forces and fall with resistless might on some weak point in 
the extended lines of the foe, — a plan the successful execution 
of which demanded that every division of his army should be 
at the place named at the very hour. 

It is related that on one occasion, his marshals, who had 
been invited to dine with him, were ten minutes late. Rising 
to meet them, the Emperor, who began his dinner as the clock 
struck, and had finished, said: "Gentlemen, it is now past 
dinner, and we will immediately proceed to business;" where- 
upon the marshals were obliged to spend the afternoon in plan- 
ning a campaign on an empty stomach. Later in life, Napo- 
leon was less prompt; and it was his loss of precious hours on 
the morning of Ligny, and his inexplicable dawdling on the 
day after the defeat of Blucher, which contributed more than 
any other cause to the fatal overthrow at Waterloo. ' On the 
other hand, it was the promptness and punctualitj^ of " Mar- 
shal Forwards" (as Blucher was nicknamed by his troops) 
which enabled Wellington to convert what otherwise would 
have probably been a drawn battle into a brilliant victory. The 
Napoleon of Austerlitz and Jena would have made history tell 
a different story. It is said that Colonel Rahl, the Hessian 
commander who in the American Revolution was routed and 
taken prisoner at Trenton, lost the battle through procrastina- 
tion. Engrossed in a game of cards, he postponed the reading 
of a letter which reached him, inform ins; him that Washing- 
ton was about to cross the Delaware, and thus lost the oppor- 
tunity of thwarting the design of the American general, and 
perhaps giving a different direction to the War of Indepen- 
dence. 

Equally as indispensable as punctuality, is the good, old- 
fashioned, but none the less fundamental virtue of 



216 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

ECONOMY. 

There is no man in the universe, however smart," wise, 
shrewd, or capable he may be, who can be a successful busi- 
ness man or build for himself a highway to fortune, unless he 
contrives to live within his means. Extravagance in ideas, in 
dress, and in habits of life, is one of the most destructive 
vices connected with our latter-day civilization. Nearly all 
classes are infected with this mania, but the average well-to-do 
class especially seem possessed to live beyond their income and 
put on a kind ol false show or style which they are not able 
to carry out. And not only this, but there seems to be an in- 
sane ambition to bring up children "genteelly" and thus crip- 
ple all native energy and resolution of character, at the very 
outset of life. As another has said, " they acquire a taste for 
dress, style, luxuries, and amusements, which can never form 
smy solid foundation for manly or gentlemanly character; and 
the result is, that we have avast number of gingerbread young 
men and women thrown upon the world, who remind one of 
the abandoned hulls sometimes picked up at sea, with only a 
monkey on board." People seem determined to keep up ap- 
pearances and try to be " big," whether they can afford it or 
not. Even honesty and honor are nothing in comparison with 
a vulgar outside show and a certain self-constituted importance 
in style of living. 

Multitudes have not the courage to go patiently onward in 
the path of life in which their birth and circumstances have 
placed them, but they must needs try to get out of this, and 
into some fashionable state or other where they can swell and 
strut like peacocks, in a plumage that is not paid for. There 
• is a constant struggle and pressure for front seats in the social 
amphitheatre; in the midst of which all noble self-denying 
resolve is trodden down, and many fine natures are inevitably 
crushed to death. What waste, what misery, what bankruptcy, 
come from all this ambition to dazzle others with the glare of 
apparent worldly success, we need not describe. The mis- 
chievous results show themselves in a thousand ways, — in the 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 217 

rank frauds committed by men who dare to be dishonest, but 
do not dare to seem poor; and in the desperate dashes at for- 
tune, in which the pity is not so much for those who fail, as 
for the hundreds of innocent families who are so often involved 
in their ruin. 

Economizing one's means with the mere object of hoarding, 
is a very mean thing, but economizing for the purpose of be- 
ing independent is one of the soundest indications of manly 
character; and when practiced with the object of providing 
for those who are dependent upon us, it assumes quite a noble 
aspect. Francis Horner's father gave him this good advice on 
lirst entering life: "Whilst I wish you to be comfortable in 
every respect, I cannot too strongly inculcate economy. It is 
a necessary virtue to all; and however the shallow part of man- 
kind may despise it, it certainly leads to independence, which 
is a grand object to every man of a high spirit. Those who 
are careless about personal expenditure, and consider merely 
their own gratification, without regard for the comfort of 
others, generally find out the real uses of money when it is 
too late. Though by nature generous, these thriftless persons' 
are often driven in the end to do very shabby things. They 
dawdle with their money as with their time; draw bills upon 
the future; anticipate their earnings ; and are thus under the 
necessity of dragging after them a load of debts and obliga- 
tions which seriously affect their action as free and independ- 
ent men. The loose cash which many persons throw away 
usejessiy, and worse, would often form a basis of fortune and 
independence for life. These wasters are their own worst ene- 
mies, though generally found amongst the ranks of those who 
rail at the injustice of the world." 

One of the best of those who are called by the world "good 
fellows," was the poet Burns. He earned money easily, and 
spent it as freely. With anything like a decent economy he 
might have saved enough to have made himself and family com- 
fortable through life. But he was an easy and a fast liver, 
and on his death-bed he wrote to a friend, "Alas! Clarke, I 
begin to feel the worst. Burns' poor widow, and a half dozen 



218 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

of his dear little ones helpless orphans ; — there I am weak as 
a woman's tear. Enough of this ; — 'tis half my disease." 

"To be in debt," says Mr. Smiles, "lowers a man in self-re- 
spect, places him at the mercy of his tradesman and his ser- 
vant, and renders him a slave in many respects, for he can no 
longer call himself his own master, nor boldly look the world 
in the face. It is also difficult for a man who is in debt to be 
truthful ; hence it is said that lying rides on debt's back. The 
debtor has to frame excuses to his creditor for postponing pay- 
ment of the money he owes him ; and probably also to contrive 
falsehoods. It is easy enough for a man who will exercise a 
healthy resolution, to avoid incurring the first obligation ; but 
the facility with which that has been incurred often becomes 
a temptation to a second ; and very soon the unfortunate bor- 
rower becomes so entangled that no late exertion of industry 
can set him free. The first step in debt is like the first step 
in falsehood; almost involving the necessity of proceeding in 
the same course, debt following debt, as lie follows lie." 

Hay don, the painter, dated his decline from the day on 
which he first borrowed money. He realized the truth of the 
proverb, "Who goes a-borrowing, goes a- sorrowing." The 
significant entiw in his diary is: "Here began debt and obli- 
gation, out of which I have never been and never shall be ex- 
tricated as long as I live." Hiydon had long been accustomed 
to borrow money from his poor father, which, however, he did 
not include in his obligations. Far different was the noble 
spirit displayed by Fichte, who said, when struggling with 
poverty, "For years I have never accepted a farthing from 
my parents, because I have seven sisters who are all young and 
in part uneducated; and because I have a father who, were I 
to allow it, would in his kindness bestow upon me that which 
belongs by right to his other children." 

Admiral Jervis, Earl St. Vincent, has told the story of his 
early struggles, and, amongst other things, of his determina- 
tion to keep out of debt. " My father had a very large family," 
said he, "with limited means. He gave me twenty pounds at 
starting, and that was all he ever gave me. After I had been 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 219 

a considerable time at sea, I drew for twenty more, but the 
bill came back protested. I was mortified at this rebuke, and 
made a promise which I have ever kept, that I would never 
draw another bill without a certainty of its being paid. I 
immediately changed my mode of living, quitted my mess, 
lived alone, and took up the ship's allowance, which I found 
quite sufficient; washed and mended my own clothes; made a 
pair of trousers out of the ticking of my bed ; and having by 
these means saved as much money as would redeem my honor, 
I took up my bill; and from that time to this I have taken 
care to keep within my means." Jervis for six years endured 
pinching privation, but preserved his integrity, studied his 
profession with success, and gradually and steadily rose by 
merit and bravery to the highest rank. Samuel Drew's first 
lesson in economy is thus described by himself: "When I was 
a boy, I somehow got a few pence, and coming into. St. Aus- 
tell on a fair day, laid out all on a purse. My empty purse 
often reminded me of my folly ; and the recollection has since 
been as useful to me as Franklin's whistle was to him." 

After all that has been written on the art of money-getting, 
the whole subject is condensed into four single rules, as fol- 
lows: Work hard — improve every opportunity — economize — • 
avoid debt. And these four can again be condensed into one, 
namely: sjyend every day less than you earn. Nothing 
more than this is needed, and to this nothing can be added. 
The famous Micawber in "David Copperfield," tersely sums 
the matter up thus: "Annual income, twenty pounds; annual 
expenditure, nineteen pounds nineteen and six; result, happi- 
ness. Annual income, twenty pounds; annual expenditure, 
twenty pounds one and six; result, misery." And this latter 
condition was always poor Micawber's fortune. As has been 
well said, there is no workingman in good health who may 
not become independent, if he will but carefully husband his 
receipts, and guard jealously against the little leaks of useless 
expenditure. There are a hundred persons who can work 
hard, to every ten who can properly husband their earnings. 
The classes that toil the hardest squander most recklessly the 



220 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

money the}' earn. Instead of hoarding their receipts so as to 
provide against sickness or want of employment, they eat and 
drink up their earnings as they go, and thus in the first finan- 
cial crisis, when mills and factories stop, and capitalists lock 
up their cash instead of using it in great enterprises, they are 
ruined. Men who thus live "from hand to mouth," never 
keeping more than a day's march ahead of actual want, are 
little better off than slaves. 

To one who has seen much of the miseries of the poor, it is 
hard to account for this short-sightedness of conduct; but 
doubtless the main cause is the contempt with which they are 
wont to look upon petty savings. Ask those who spend all as 
they go why they do not put by a fraction of their daily earn- 
ings, and they will reply, " That's of no use* what good can the 
saving of a few cents a day, or an occasional dollar, do? If I 
could lay by four or five dollars a week, that would ultimately 
amount to something." It is by this thoughtless reasoning 
that thousands are kept steeped to the lips in poverty, who by 
a moderate degree of self-denial might place themselves in a 
state of comfort and independence, if not of affluence. They 
do not consider to what enormous sums little savings and lit- 
tle spendings swell, at last, when continued through a long 
series of years. Accordingly, there is no inward revolution in 
the history of a man so important in itself and in its conse- 
quences, as occurs at the moment when a man makes his first 
saving. Among the heavy capitalists in one of our cities some 
years ago, was a builder who began life as a bricklayer's 
laborer at one dollar per day. Out of that small sum he con- 
trived to lay up fifty cents per day, and at the end of the 
first year he had saved $182, from which moment his for- 
tune was made. 

" Whatever your means be," says Sir Edward Lytton Bul- 
wer in an excellent essay upon " The Management of Money,'' 
" so apportion your wants that your means may exceed them. 
Every man who earns but ten shillings a week can do this if 
he please, whatever he may say to the contrary; for, if he can 
live upon ten shillings a. week, he can live upon nine and 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 221 

elevenpence. In this rule mark the emphatic distinction be- 
tween. poverty and neediness. Poverty is relative, and there- 
fore not ignoble. Neediness is a positive degradation. If I 
have only £100 a year, I am rich as compared with the major- 
ity of my countrymen. If I have £5,000 a year, I may be 
poor compared with the majority of my associates, and very 
poor compared to my next-door neighbor. With either of 
these incomes I am relatively poor or rich;;. but with either of 
these incomes I may be positively needy or positively free 
from neediness. With the £100 a year I may need no man's 
help; I may at least have ' my crust of bread and liberty/ 
But with £5,000 a year I may dread a ring at my bell; I may 
have my tyrannical masters in servants whose wages I cannot 
pay; my exile may be at the fiat of the first long-suffering 
man who enters a judgment against me; for the flesh that lies 
nearest my heart some Shylock may be dusting his scales and 
whetting his knife. Nor is this an exaggeration. Some of the 
neediest men I ever knew have a nominal £5,000 a year. 
Every man is needy who spends more than he has; no man is 
needy who spends less. I may so ill manage my money, that, 
with- £5,000 a year, I purchase the worst evils of poverty, — 
terror and shame; I may so well manage my money, that, with 
£100 a year, I purchase the best blessings of wealth, — safety 
and respect. 

Of course there is sucn a thing as being miserly, niggard- 
ly, and mean in this matter of saving, but we are not advoca- 
ting the practice of any such habit, or upholding any such trait 
of character. It would not be wise to carry this virtue of 
economy so far as to change it into a positive vice. It would 
not be well to imitate the Earl of Westminster, who had an 
income of four millions a year, afld who once dismounted from 
his horse, when he found he had lost a button, and retraced 
his steps until he found it. This was not economy but simple 
penuriousness. On the other hand, prudence, frugality and 
good management are good mechanics for mending bad times; 
they occupy but little room in any dwelling, but will furnish 
a more effectual remedy for the evils of life than any silver or 



222 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

tariff bill that ever passed Congress. To live on others* wealth, 
or to ride with unpaid-for horses, is to be a cheat, and not 
a gentleman. 

Says Douglas Jerrold: "Be sure of it, he who dines out of 
debt, though his meal be biscuit and an onion, dines in ' The 
Apollo.' And then for raiment; what warmth in a thread- 
bare coat, if the tailor's receipt be in the pocket ! what Tyrian 
purple in the faded waistcoat, the vest not owed for ! how 
glossy the well-worn hat, if it covers not the aching head of a 
debtor ! . . . Debt, however courteously it be offered, is 
the cup of a siren, and the wine, spiced and delicious though 
it be, an eating poison. The man out of debt, though with a 
flaw in his jerkin, a crack in his shoe-leather, and a hole in his 
hat, is still the son of liberty, free as the singing lark above 
him; but the debtor, though clothed in the utmost bravery, 
what is he but a serf out upon a holiday, — a slave to be re- 
claimed at any instant by his owner, the creditor? My son, if 
poor, see wine in the running spring; let thy mouth water at 
a last week's roll; think a threadbare coat the 'only wear'; 
and acknowledge a whitewashed garret the fittest housing 
place for a gentleman ; do this, and flee debt. So shall thy 
heart be at peace, and the sheriff be confounded." 




SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 223 



OHAPTEK XIV. 
Tkaits, Qualities and Habits. 

(continued.) 

Kites rise against, not with the wind. 

John Neal. 

Brave spirits are a balsam to themselves : 
There is a nobleness of mind that heals 
Wounds beyond salves. 

CAE.TWB.IGnT. 

There is a strength 
Deep bedded in our hearts of which we reck 
But little, till the shafts of heaven have pierced 
Its fragile dwelling. Must not earth be rent 
Before her gems are found ? 

Mrs. Hemans. 

While hope lives 
Let not the generous die. ' Tis always late 
Before the brave despair. 

Thomson. 

The wise and active conquer difficulties 
By daring to attempt them : Sloth and folly 
Shiver and shrink at sight of toil and hazard 
And make the impossibility they fear. 

Rowe. 

Success in most things depends on knowing how long it takes to succeed. 

Montesquieu. 

IE have been speaking of economy, but economy is of 
two kinds, and has reference to time, as well as 
money. So far as disastrous results are concerned, 
it makes but little difference whether a young man wastes his 
time, or squanders his money, as money can only be earned 
by using time, and time can always be converted into money. 




221: THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

Time and labor are in fact the two oars by which a man pro- 
pels his life-boat towards the distant shores of achievement 
and fruition. It will be well, therefore, to look a little at the 
value and 

EIGHT USE OF TIME, 

as constituting a part of the imperial highway to success in 
business life. In visiting the United States Mint at Phila- 
delphia, the guide will tell you, as you reach the gold-working 
room, that the singular floor which you discover under your 
feet, is a network of wooden bars so arranged as to catch all 
the falling particles of the precious metal. At the close of 
each day's labor, this floor, which is in sections, is taken up 
and all the golden dust is carefully swept up and re-coined. 
And not only this, but all the workmen in the room change 
their clothes at night and leave them there, so that the dust 
may be shook out, swept up and saved. In like manner, he 
who would achieve success in whatever he undertakes, and ac- 
complish his aims and desires must treat his odd moments, 
the little intervals of time occuring between heavier tasks, as 
the golden dust of life's working-room. 

It is astonishing to think how much time is thrown away 
and wasted each year, and how much could be learned by 
those who felt disposed to use these spare moments in further- 
ing the objects of their ambition. Purpose and persistent 
industry make a man sharp to discern opportunities and turn 
them to account. To the feeble, the sluggish, and the indo- 
lent, the happiest opportunities avail nothing; but with perse- 
verance the very odds and ends of time ma} 7 be worked up 
into results of the greatest value. An hour every day with- 
drawn from frivolous pursuits and profitably employed, would 
enable a. person of ordinary capacity to go far in mastering a 
complete science. It would make an ignorant 'man well-in- 
formed in ten years. • Stephenson taught himself arithmetic 
and mensuration while working in an engine-room during the 
night shifts, and he studied mechanics during his spare hours 
at home ; thus preparing himself for his great work, the in- 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 225 

vention of the passenger locomotive. Watt taught himself 
chemistry and mechanics while working at his trade. 

Dalton's industry began from boyhood, and at twelve years 
of ao-e he taught a little village school in the winter, and 
worked on his father's farm in the summer. This early habit 
of industry was continued until a day or two before he died. 
Dr. Mason Good, translated Lucretius while riding in his 
carriage in the streets of London, going his rounds among his 
patients. Dr. Darwin composed nearly all his works in the 
same way, while driving about in his "sulky," from house to 
house in the country, — writing down his thoughts on little 
scraps of paper, which he carried about with him for the pur- 
pose. Hale wrote his "Contemplations" while traveling on 
circuit. Dr. Bnrney learned French and Italian while travel- 
ing on horseback from one musical pupil to another in the 
course of his profession. Kirke White learned Greek while 
walking to and from a lawyer's office. 

Elihu Burritt attributed his first success in self-improve-, 
ment, not to genius, which he disclaimed, but simply to the 
careful employment of those invaluable fragments of time, 
called " odd moments." While working and earning his liv- 
ing as a blacksmith, he mastered some eighteen ancient and 
modern languages, and twenty-two European dialects. Withal, 
he was exceedingly modest, and thought his achievements 
nothing extraordinary. Like another learned and wise man, 
of whom it was said that he could be silent in ten languages, 
Elihu Burritt could do the same in forty. "Those who have 
been acquainted with my character from my youth up," said 
he, writing to a friend, "will give me credit for sincerity 
when I say, that it never entered into my head to blazon forth 
any acquisition of my own. . . All that I have accom- 
plished, or expect, or hope to accomplish, has been and will be 
by that plodding, patient, persevering process of accretion 
which builds the ant-heap — particle by particle, thought by 
thought, fact by fact. And if ever I was actuated by ambi- 
tion, its highest and warmest aspiration reached no farther 
than the hope to set before the young men of my country an 
15 



226 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

example in employing those invaluable fragments of time 
called odd moments." 

Daguesseau, one of the great Chancellors of France, by 
carefully working up his odd bits of time wrote a bulky and 
able volume in the successive intervals of waiting for dinner; 
and Madame de Genlis composed several of her charming vol- 
umes while waiting for the Princess Orleans to whom she 
gave her daily lessons. Jeremy Bentham and Melancthon ar- 
ranged their hours of labor and repose so that not a moment 
should be lost. Ferguson learned astronomy from the heavens 
while wrapped in a sheepskin on the highland hills. Stqne 
learned mathematics while working as a journeyman gardener, 
and Drew became acquainted with the highest philosophy in 
the intervals of cobbling shoes. Locke carried a note-book in 
his pocket to catch the scintillations of all the conversations 
which he heard. Pope, when not able to sleep, would get up 
and write. Dr. Push studied in his carriage while visiting 
patients, and prepared himself to write not only upon profes- 
sional but other themes, works which are still almost as useful 
as when first published. Cuvier, the father of Comparative 
Anatomy, also studied while passing in his carriage from place 
to place, and by his ceaseless industry did perhaps more for 
the physical sciences than any other man that ever lived. 

Franklin stole his hours of study from meals and sleep, and 
for years, with inflexible resolution, strove to save for his own 
instruction every minute that could be won. Hugh Miller 
found time while pursuing his trade as a stone-mason, not 
only to read, but to write, cultivating his style till he became 
one of the most facile and brilliant authors of the day. Mr. 
Grote, the historian of Greece, whose work is by far the fullest 
and most trustworthy on the subject, and who also snatched 
time from business to write two large volumes upon Plato, 
was a banker. Sir John Lubbock, the highest English author- 
ity on prehistoric acliseology, has made himself such by steal- 
ing the time from mercantile pursuits. John Quincy Adams, 
to the -last day of his life, was an economist of moments. To 
redeem the time, he rose early. " I feel nothing like ennui" 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 227 

lie said. " Time is too short for me, rather than too long. If 
the day were forty-eight hours long, instead of twenty-four, I 
could employ them all, if I had but eyes and hands to read 
and write." While at St. Petersburg, he complained bitterly 
of the great loss of his time from the civilities and visits of his 
friends and associates. " I have been engaged," he wrote, 
•"the whole forenoon, and though I rise at six o'clock, I am 
sometimes able to write only a part of a private letter in the 
-course of the day." 

Dr. Channinff knew a man of vigorous intellect who had 
enjoyed few advantages of early education, and whose mind 
was almost engrossed by the details of an extensive business, 
who yet composed a book of much original thought in steam- 
boats and on horseback. These examples are enough, and 
more than enough, to show that the moments commonly 
wasted during a long life by the busiest men would suffice, if 
avariciously improved, for the execution of even colossal un- 
dertakings, which seemingly demand a lifetime of uninter- 
rupted leisure. We say, therefore, in the language of that 
prodigy of industry, Goethe, " Do not wait for extraordinary 
opportunities for good actions, but make use of common situ- 
ations. A long-continued walk is better than a short flight." 
The small stones that fill up the crevices are almost as essen- 
tial to the firm wall as the great stones; and so the wise use 
of spare time contributes not a little to the building up in 
good proportions, and with strength, a man's mind. If you 
really prize mental culture, or are deeply anxious to do any 
good thing, you will find time, or make time for it, sooner or 
later, however engrossed with other employments. A failure 
to accomplish it can only demonstrate the feebleness of your 
will, not that you lacked time for its execution. 

"Old-fashioned economists," says the eloquent Wirt, " will 
tell you never to pass an old nail, or an 'old horseshoe, or 
buckle, or even a pin, without taking it up; because, although 
you may not want it now, you will find a use for it some time 
or other. I say the same thing to you with regard to knowl- 
edge. However useless it may appear to you at the moment, 



228 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

seize upon all that is fairly within your reach. For there, is- 
not a fact within the whole circle of human observation, nor 
even a fugitive anecdote that you read in a newspaper, that 
will not come into play at some time or other; and occasions 
will arise when they involuntarily present their dim shadows 
in the train of your thinking and reasoning, as belonging to- 
that train, and you will regret that you cannot recall them 
more distinctly." Daniel Webster once repeated with effect 
an anecdote which he had treasured in his memory for four- 
teen years. 

And another thoughtful writer expresses himself on the 
same subject in a similar strain. ''Every kind of knowledge," 
he says, "comes into play some time or other; not only that 
which is systematic and methodized, but that which is frag- 
mentary, even the odds and ends, the merest rag or tag of in- 
formation. Single facts, anecdotes, expressions, recur to the 
mind, and, by the power of association, just in the right place. 
Many of these are laid in during what we think our idlest 
days. All that fund of matter which is used allusively in 
similitudes or illustrations is collected in diversions from the 
path of hard study. He will do best in this line whose range 
has been the widest and the freest. A man may study so much 
by rule as to lose all this, just as one may ride so much on the 
highway as to know nothing that is off the road." 

Indeed, the practice of writing down thoughts and facts for 
the purpose of holding them fast, and preventing their escape 
into the dim region of forgetfulness, has been much resorted 
to by thoughtful and studious men. Lord Bacon left behind 
him many manuscripts, entitled "Sudden thoughts set down 
for use." Erskine made great extracts from Burke; and El- 
don copied Coke upon Littleton twice over with his own hand,, 
so that the book became, as it were, part of his own mind. 
The late Dr f Pye Smith, when apprenticed to his father as a 
bookbinder, was accustomed to make copious memoranda of 
all the books he read, with extracts and criticisms. This in- 
domitable industry in collecting materials distinguished him 
through life, his biographer describing him as " always at 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 229 

work, always in advance, always accumulating." These note- 
books afterwards proved, like Richter's " quarries," the great 
storehouse from which he drew his illustrations and metaphors. 

In saying these things, however, we wish to acknowledge 
with equal emphasis the necessity of suitable seasons of recre- 
ation in the midst of this intense and protracted application, and 
also the necessity of a sufficient amount of sleep with which 
to recuperate exhausted nature. Modern life is so driving 
.and busy, so restless, and feverish in its excitements, that, 
unless due care is bestowed upon the preservation of mental 
vigor and clearness of thought, the mind soon wears itself 
into a state where all healthy growth and accumulations of 
power are practically impossible. It has been well said that 
the mind, " if is not a mere plodding, mechanical mind, is cap- 
ricious in its workings, and will not be tyrannized over. It 
loves dearly to assert its independence, and will be consulted 
as to whether it will do this or that. It is not a mere machine, 
and cannot be used as if it were one. It must often "gang its 
.ain gait," and sometimes must be left alone, even when it 
stoops to trifles. Many of its processes go on unbidden, with- 
out our control. In its very highest efforts it abhors task- 
work, and utterly refuses to be a drudge. The happiest 
thoughts, the most brilliant fancies, the aptest similitudes, are 
those sudden illuminations, those flashes, which come to us in 
hours of relaxation, of play, when we throw the reins upon 
the neck of our winged steed and let it roam where it will." 

It is still further true that change and variety in study is 
sometimes quite as beneficial as steady devotion to any single 
branch of intellectual effort. There seems to be different sets 
of powers in the mind, and by pursuing one line of thought 
until wearied, and then turning to another of an exactly op-, 
posite character, more can be accomplished in the aggregate 
than by following in a continuous straight line of mental ex- 
ertion. It is not necessary to be always pounding away on 
one corner of an anvil, in order to be busy. With a vigorous, 
inquiring mind, idleness, in one sense, is impossible. The 



230 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

brain is busy, often, when it seems to be most at rest. Says- 
Ralph Waldo Emerson, 

Tax not my sloth that I 
Fold niy arms beside the brook ; 
Each cloud that floateth in the sky, 
Writes a letter in my book. 

A mind that does a good deal of thinking must needs spend 
some time gathering the raw material for thought; it must 
ruminate and browse among books, and more than this, it 
must be turned over occasionally like summer fallow, and suf- 
fered to lie exposed to the various fertilizing influences which, 
like winds, sweep over it from the great worlds of nature and 
action, lying outside. 

Still another desirable form of mental activity is described 
by 1ST. P. Willis, who speaks of sitting down and " reading 
sometimes, and sometimes listening to the faster falls of the 
large drops without, and sometimes rising with the stir of an 
unbidden thought, and then composedly sitting down again to 
some quaint book of olden poetry;" but this can hardly be 
called idleness, at least not in the sense which Thomson used 
the word in his " Castle of Indolence," where he speaks of 
some 

Whose only labor was to kill the time, 
Who sit and loll, turn o'er some idle rhyme, 
Then, rising sudden, to the glass they go, 
Or saunter forth with tot! ering step and slow. 
But this too rude an exercise they find, 
Then straight on the couch their limbs they throw, 
Where hours and hours they, sighing, lie reclined, 
And court the vapory god soft-breathing in the wind. 

Why? Because the object sought in the first instance was 
mental enrichment through a pleasing change or variety of 
mental life, and in the other the only desire and wish was to 
blot out all mind-work and leave the brain in a state of utter 
vacuity. While, therefore, it may be well to remember that 
"of sloth comes pleasure, of pleasure comes riot, of riot comes 
disease, of disease comes spending, and of spending comes 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 231 

want," as an old English author states, adding with little 
knowledge of modern justice that " of want comes theft, and 
of theft comes hanging," yet, on the other hand, we should not 
forget that time spent in physical culture, in necessary recrea- 
tion, in sound, healthful sleep, and in a miscellaneous gather- 
ing of thought-material for future use, is by no means lost 
time; for each and all of these diversions are necessary to con- 
tinuous mental activity. 

Especially are such breaks in study needful for children 
with undeveloped minds, as instances are numerous where a 
child, by rambling as his fancy led, has fallen upon some book 
which determined his whole after-life, or has struck out some 
line of labor in which he afterwards became distinguished. 
Thus Dr. Johnson, in his youth, believing that his brother 
had concealed some apples beneath a large folio upon an upper 
shelf in his father's shop, climbed up to make the capture, and 
finding no apples, attacked the folio, which proved to be the 
works of Petrarch; and thus his very idleness instructed him, 
and the apples led him to literature. 

Again, among indispensable traits of character, qualities of 
mind, and habits of life none are more important than 

PATIENT, PERSISTENT WORKING- AND WAITING. 

for the results of effort to appear, and be realized. Nine out 
of every ten who fail in life get discouraged and give up be 
fore the battle is fairly won. They lose hope and heart. They 
lack courage and faith. They become impatient at the slow 
results of their toil. They cannot learn to labor and to wait." 
But no one can succeed in life by pursuing such a course. It 
is only by a resolute holding on and a patient continuance in 
well-doing that the end of a journey is reached. Nearly all 
really great men began life at the foot of the ladder, and 
worked their way up by slow degrees and through many trials 
and difficulties. And so my reader you must make up your 
mind to do the same, or stay where you are and abandon all 
hopes of preferment. 

In our own country, Franklin, Kittenhouse, Patrick Henry, 



232 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

Bowditch, Clay, Webster, Jackson, Douglas, Lincoln, Grant, 
were all the sons of poor parents. Senator Wilson, who was 
for a long time a shoemaker, said in one of his addresses to the' 
people of Great Falls, IN". EL: "I was born here in your 
county. I know what it is to ask a mother for bread when 
she had none to give. I left my home at ten years of age, and 
served an apprenticeship of eleven years, receiving a month's 
schooling each year, and, at the end of eleven years' hard work, 
a yoke of oxen and six sheep, which brought me eighty-four 
dollars. A dollar would cover every penny I spent from the 
time I was born until I was twenty-one years of age. I know 
what it is to travel weary miles and ask my fellow-men to give 
me leave to toil. I remember that in September, 1833, I 
walked into your village from my native town, and went 
through your mills seeking employment. If anybody had of- 
fered me eight or nine dollars a month, I should have accepted 
it gladly. I went down to Salmon Falls, I went to Dover, I 
went to Newmarket, and tried to get work, without success; 
and I returned home weary, but not discouraged, and put my 
pack on my back, and walked to the town where I now live, 
and learned a mechanic's trade. The first month I worked 
after T was twenty-one years of age, I went into the woods, 
drove team, cut mill-logs, and chopped wood ; and though I 
rose in the morning before daylight, and worked hard until, 
after dark at night, I received for it the magnificent sum of 
two dollars. And when I got the money, those dollars looked 
to me as large as the moon looks to-night." 

Thurlow Weed, for a long time one of the most influential 
editors and politicians of the country, published recently h 
sketch of his early life, in which he thus speaks of his efforts 
at self-culture. "Many a farmer's son has found the best op- 
portunities for mental improvement in his intervals of leisure 
while tending ' sap bush.' Such, at any rate, was my own 
experience. At night you had only to feed the kettles and 
keep up the fires, the sap having been gathered and the wood 
cut ' before dark.' During the day we would always lay in a 
good stock of 'fat pine' by the light of which, blazing bright 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 233 

before the sugar-house, in the posture the serpent was con- 
demned to assume as a penalty for tempting our great first 
grandmother, I passed many a delightful night in reading. I 
remember in this way to have read a history of the French 
Revolution, and to have obtained from it a better and more 
enduring knowledge of its events and horrors and of the act- 
ors in that great national tragedy than I have received from 
all subsequent reading. I remember also how happy I was 
in being able to borrow the book of a Mr. Keyes, after a two- 
mile tramp through the snow, shoeless, my feet swaddled in 
remnants of a rag-carpet." 

The most successful editors in this country have graduated 
from a printing office rather than from a college. The history 
of Horace Greeley, founder of the New York Tribune, is fa- 
miliar to all. He began life as a poor boy and went up, step 
by step, to the position of editor-in-chief of a powerful met- 
ropolitan journal. The early life of James Brooks, once 
editor and proprietor of the New York Express, is another 
example of triumphant courage and perseverance by which 
many a poor boy has found his way to the editorial chair or to 
a seat in Congress. Mr. Brooks began his career as a clerk in 
the village of Androscoggin, Me., where he was to remain till 
twenty-one years of age, when, by contract, he was to receive 
as capital from his employer a hogshead of New England rum. 
Unfortunately for his employer and the hogshead of rum, the 
town library was kept in the "'store," of which the clerk made 
a liberal use. His first venture in business enabled him to 
save money enough to pay one dollar a week for his board, 
while a kind gentleman assisted him to go to school. As soon 
as he knew enough to teach school, he began as a pedagogue 
on the liberal salary of ten dollars per month and his board. 
In a year he was rich enough to enter Water ville College. 
Studying and teaching by turns, he graduated at the end ot 
two years, carrying his trunk to the stage-office, as he did when 
he entered, to save a few of his hard-earned and scanty shil- 
lings. From this hour he provided a home for his mother 



234 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

and her two younger children, his father having died in his 
childhood. 

Mr. Brooks next studied law with the noted John Neal of 
Portland, taught school, and at the same time wrote a series of 
anonymous letters for the Portland Advertiser, a daily Whig 
paper, which were so popular that its proprietor made him an 
offer of five hundred dollars per year to write constantly for 
his journal. At this time, though only twenty years old, he 
had become one of the most popular and eloquent orators of 
his State. After serving in the Legislature of Maine, in con- 
nection with his editorial duties on the Portland Advertiser, 
he went to Washington in 1832, and began the series of letters 
which for the first time caught up and reflected in clear and 
brilliant light the multiform life of the American Capital. 
The letters became immediately popular, and were copied by 
the press from Maine to Louisiana. One of the most signal 
proofs of their brilliancy and power is to be found in the 
words of Senator Wilson: "'I shall never forget what those 
letters were to me. The first I had ever read, they came to 
me in my obscurity and poverty as the revelation of an un- 
known and wonderful life. They made me want to go to 
Washington. They made me feel that I must go there and 
see the men and witness the national scenes which I read about 
in those letters." 

Subsequently, Mr. Brooks wrote a series of letters from the 
Southern States, then visited Europe, traveling on foot through 
the principal countries and sending home letters to the Port- 
land Advertiser, then started the !N". Y. Express, carrying it 
alone for many years under a heavy load of debt and discour- 
agement, acting as editor, reporter, and even type-setter, then in 
1849 went to Congress as a representative from New York City. 

Even in those cases where men have begun life under more 
favorable circumstances, they have not gone through the bat- 
tle unscathed. Many bear in their faces and bodies the scars 
and signs of desperate conflict. Such was the case with Bu- 
fus Choate as his haggard face and trembling, nervous frame 
too plainly showed; and such is the case with another brilliant 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 235 

lawyer, Secretary of State under President Hayes. He has 
been recently described by a reporter as follows: " In that 
pale and almost emaciated face, that fragile enwrapment of 
body which seems shaken by the earnestness of its own talk, 
is packed that library of knowledge and that fiery concentra- 
tion of eloquent speech which, collectively, make up the pro- 
duct of humanity called William M. Evarts. He looks like a 
man whom his soul had burned up with its own intensity till 
all that was inflammable was exhaled, leaving a thin body and 
a face lit up with great, wierd, far-seeing eyes." 

It has been truly N said that of all the lessons which human- 
ity has to learn in this world, the hardest are to hold on and 
wait. Not to wait with folded hands that claim life's prizes 
without previous effort, but, having toiled and struggled, and 
crowded the slow years with trial, to see then no results, or 
perhaps disastrous results, and yet to stand firm, to preserve 
one's poise, and relax no effort, — this, it has been truly said, 
is greatness, whether achieved by man or woman. The world 
cannot be circumnavigated by one wind. The grandest results 
cannot be achieved iii a day; the fruits that are best worth 
plucking usually ripen the most slowly. 

Laborers for the public good especially have to work long 
and patiently, often uncheered by the prospect of immediate 
recompense or result. The seeds they sow sometimes lie hid- 
den under the winter's snow a long while before the spring 
comes and brings them to the surface. Adam Smith, the 
founder of the science of Political Economy, wrote a work 
called "The Wealth of Nations," and it took seventy years 
before it produced any substantial fruits; but the harvest is 
not gathered in yet. 

One of the most cheerful and courageous, because one of 
the most hopeful of workers, was Carey, the missionary. 
When in India, it was no uncommon thing for him to weary 
out three pundits, who officiated as his clerks, in one day, he 
himself taking rest only in change of employment. Carey, 
himself the son of a shoemaker, was supported in his labors 
by Ward, the son of a carpenter, and Marshman, the son of a 



236 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

weaver. By their labors, a magnificent college was erected at 
Serampore; sixteen flourishing stations were established; the 
Bible was translated into sixteen languages, and the seeds were 
sown of a beneficent moral revolution in British India. Carey 
was never ashamed of the humbleness of his origin. On one 
occasion, when at the Governor-General's table, he overheard 
an officer opposite him asking another, loud enough to be 
heard, whether Carey had not once been a shoemaker: "No, 
sir," exclaimed Carey immediately, "only a cobbler." An 
eminently characteristic anecdote has been told of his perse- 
verance as a boy. When climbing a tree, one day, his foot 
slipped, and he fell to the ground, breaking his leg by the fall. 
He was confined to his bed for weeks, but when his strength 
had grown again and he was able to walk without support, the 
very first thing he did was to go and climb that tree. Carey 
had need of this sort of dauntless courage for the great mis- 
sionary work of his life, and nobly and resolutely did he do it. 
Not less interesting is the following anecdote of Audubon, 
the American ornithologist, related by himself: "An acci- 
dent," he says, " which happened to two hundred of my origi- 
nal drawings, nearly put a stop to my researches in ornithology. 
I shall relate it, merely to show how far enthusiasm — for by 
no other name can I call my perseverance — may enable the 
preserver of nature to surmount the most disheartening diffi- 
culties. I left the village of Henderson, in Kentucky, situated 
on the banks of the Ohio, where I resided for several years, to 
proceed to Philadelphia on business. I looked to my draw- 
ings before my departure, placed them carefully in a wooden 
box, and gave them in charge of a relative, with injunctions 
to see that no injury should happen to them. My absence 
was of several months; and when I returned, after having en- 
joyed the pleasures of home for a few days, I inquired after 
my box, and what I was pleased to call my treasure. The box 
was produced and opened; but, reader, feel for me, — a pair of 
Norway rats had taken possession of the whole, and reared a 
young family among the gnawed bits of paper, which, but a 
month previous, represented nearly a thousand inhabitants of 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 237 

air! The burning heat which instantly rushed through my 
brain was too great to be endured without affecting my whole 
nervous system. I slept for several nights, and the days passed 
like days of oblivion, — until the animal powers being recalled 
into action, through the strength of my constitution, I took 
up my gun, my note-book, and my pencils, and went forth to 
the woods as gaily as if nothing had happened. I felt pleased 
that I might make better drawings than before; and, ere a pe- 
riod not exceeding three years had elapsed, my portfolio was 
again filled." 

Sir Isaac Newton had a little dog Diamond who, one even- 
ing when his master had gone to supper, upset a lighted taper 
upon the table where lay the laborious calculations of years. 
When the philosopher returned and beheld the destruction of 
his manuscripts, he is said to have exclaimed, "Ah! Diamond 
you little know the mischief you have wrought," and then set 
down and commenced to reproduce them. A like mischance 
befell Thomas Carlyle, when he had finished the first volume 
of his French Revolution. He lent the manuscript to a friend 
for perusal, and it having been left, by some carelessness, on 
the parlor floor, the maid -of-all- work, finding what she sup- 
posed to be a bundle of waste paper, used it to light the kitchen 
and parlor fires. The first composition of the book had been 
a labor of love; the drudgery of re-writing it, with no help but 
memory, was contemplated by the author with a degree of an- 
guish which it is not easy to conceive. Yet, without wasting 
time in plaints, he set resolutely to work, and at last trium- 
phantly reproduced the book in the form in which it now ap- 
pears. A similar anecdote is told of Robert Ainsworth, a 
celebrated writer and antiquary of the eighteenth century. 
He had toiled for years in compiling a voluminous dictionary 
of the Latin language, during which time he gave so little of 
his society to his wife, that, before he had quite completed the 
work, she committed it to the flames. Instead of abandoning 
himself to despair, he began at once to re-write the book, which, 
with almost incredible labor, he finally accomplished. When 
Edward Livingston had finished his great code of Louisianian 



238 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

law, he had the anguish of beholding the labor of long years 
perish instantly in the flames; yet he was not disheartened, 
but patiently re- commenced and re-performed his task. 

Equally striking illustrations of persistent and patient work- 
ing are to be found in all branches of science, art, and indus- 
try. George Stephenson worked fifteen years at the improve- 
ment of the locomotive, while Watt was engaged some thirty 
years on the condensing engine before he brought it to perfec- 
tion. A brave story is that connected with the disentombment 
of Nineveh marbles, and the discovery of the long-lost cunei- 
form or arrow-headed character, in which the inscriptions on 
them are written, — a kind of writing which had been lost to 
the world since the period of the Macedonian conquest of 
Persia. 

An intelligent cadet of the East India Company, stationed 
at Kermanshah, in Persia, had observed the curious cuneiform 
inscriptions on the old monuments in the neighborhood, — so 
old that all historical traces of them had been lost, — and 
among the inscriptions which he copied was that upon the 
celebrated rock of Behistun, — a perpendicular rock rising ab- 
ruptly some 1,700 feet from the plain, the lower part bearing 
inscriptions for the space of about three hundred feet, in three 
languages, — the Persian, Scythian, and Assyrian. Compari- 
son of the known with the unknown, of the language which 
survived with the lanoma^e that had been lost, enabled this 
cadet to acquire some knowledge of the cuneiform character, 
and even to form an alphabet. Mr. (afterwards Sir Henry) 
Pawlinson sent his tracings home for examination. No pro- 
fessors in colleges knew anything about the cuneiform char- 
ter; but there was a ci-devant clerk of the East India -House, 
— a modest unknown man of the name of Norris, — who had 
made this little-understood subject his study, to whom the 
tracings were submitted; and so accurate was his knowledge, 
that, though he had never seen the Behistun rock, he pro- 
nounced that Pawlinson had not copied the puzzling inscrip- 
tions with proper exactness. Pawlinson, who was still in the 
neighborhood of the rock, compared his copy with the origi- 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 239 

nal, and found that Norris was right; and by further compari- 
son and careful study the knowledge of the cuneiform writing 
was greatly advanced. 

But a third laborer was necessary to dig np the buried ma- 
terial and he presented himself in the person of Austen 
Layard, originally an articled clerk in the office of a London 
solicitor. Thus the three discoverers of a forgotten language 
were found in a cadet, an India House clerk, and a lawyer's 
clerk. Layard was a youth of twenty-two, with a burning 
desire to penetrate the regions beyond the Euphrates. Ac- 
companied by a single companion, trusting to his arms and 
to his cheerfulness, politeness, and chivalrous bearing for 
protection, he passed safely amidst tribes at deadly war with 
each other, and after the lapse of many years, with compara- 
tively slender means at his command, but aided by intense 
labor, perseverance, resolute will and purpose, and almost 
sublime patience, borne up throughout by his passionate en- 
thusiasm for discovery and research, he succeeding in laying 
bare and digging up an amount of historical treasure, the 
like of which was probably never before collected by the 
industry of any one man. Not less than two miles of bas-reliefs 
were thus brought to light by Mr. Layard. The selections of 
these valuable antiquities now placed in the British Museum 
were found so curiously corroborative of the Scriptural record 
of events which occurred some three thousand years ago, that 
they burst upon the world almost like a new revelation. And 
the story of the disentombment of these remarkable works, as 
told by Mr. Layard himself in his " Monuments of Nineveh," 
will always be regarded as one of the most charming and un- 
affected records which we possess of individual enterprise, 
industry, and energy. 

No career is more instructive, viewed in the same light, than 
that of Sir "Walter Scott. His admirable working qualities 
were trained in a lawyer's office, where he pursued for many 
years a routine of drudgery scarcely above that of a mere 
copying clerk. His daily dry routine made his evenings, 
which were his own, all the more sweet; and he generally de- 



24:0 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

voted them to reading and study. He himself attributed to 
his prosaic office discipline that habit of steady, sober dili- 
gence, in which mere literary men are so often found wanting. 
Asa copying clerk he was allowed 3d. for every page contain- 
ing a certain number of words; and he sometimes, by extra 
work, was able to copy as many as one hundred and twenty 
pages in twenty-four hours, thus earning some 30s.; out of 
which he would sometimes purchase an odd volume otherwise 
beyond his means. 

During his after life Scott was wont to pride himself upon 
being a man of business, and averred that there was no neces- 
sary connection between genius and a contempt for the com- 
mon duties of life. While afterwards acting as clerk to the 
Court of Session in Edinburgh, he performed his literary work 
before breakfast, and attended court during the day. It was 
a principle of action which he laid down for himself, that he 
must earn his living by business and not by literature, and 
that the profits of his literary labor should not become neces- 
sary to his ordinary expenses. Accordingly, it would have 
been impossible for him to have performed such an enormous 
amount of labor had it not been for his carefully cultivated 
habit of punctuality. 

He made it a rule to answer every letter received, on the 
same day, except where deliberation and inquiry were called 
for. Nothing else could have kept hirn abreast with the flood of 
communications that poured in upon him and put his good 
nature to the severest test. It was his practice to rise by five 
o'clock, and light his own fire. He shaved and dressed with 
deliberation, and was seated at his desk by six o'clock, all his 
papers arranged before him in the most accurate order, with 
his books of reference marshaled round him on the floor, 
while at least one favorite dog lay watching his eye, outside 
the line of books. Thus by the time the family assembled 
for breakfast, between nine and ten, he had done enough — to 
use his own words — to break the neck of the day's work. But 
with all his diligent and indefatigable industry, and his im- 
mense knowledge, the result of many years' patient labor, Scott 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 241 

always spoke with the greatest modesty of his own powers. 
On one occasion he said, "Throughout every part of my career 
I have felt pinched and hampered by my own ignorance." 

WEIGHT OP CHARACTER.. 

There is hardly any other word in the language which means 
more in life, or which is more essential to all that makes life 
valuable, than the word character. It does not stand for any 
one endowment, faculty, or gift, but it is rather the sum of all 
that a man or woman is, in themssloes. It does not stand for 
wealth, for there are many wealthy mon who have no weight 
or strength of character. They are lifted upon a pinnacle 
by the force of circumstances or by the power of money, but 
those around and those below them see their essential hollow- 
ness and worthlessness, and see through their pretentious 
greatness, as though it were but transparent glass. Neither 
is character a synonym for intellectual ability simply, because 
there are very many men and women of considerable talent, 
who have no weight of character. 

Character, then, may be compared to a reservoir into which 
all the rills and streamlets of personal power empty them- 
selves, forming the collected result of life's accumulations. 
Or, as another has said, " it is the crown and glory of life. It is 
human nature in its best form. It is moral order embodied 
in the individual. Men of character are not only the con- 
science of society, but in every well-governed state they are 
its best motive power. The strength, the civil security, and 
the civilization of a nation, all depend upon individual char- 
acter. It constitutes a rank in itself, and dignifies and exalts 
every station in life. It carries with it an influence which 
always tells." 

Though a man have comparatively little culture, slender 
abilities, and but small wealth, yet, if his character be of ster- 
ling worth, he will always command an influence, whether it 
be in the workshop, the counting-house, the mart, or the sen- 
ate. Canning wisely wrote in 1801, "My road must be 
through Character to power; I will try no other course; and 
16 



2tt2 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

I am sanguine enough to believe that this course, though not 
perhaps the quickest, is the surest." You may admire men 
of intellect ; but something more is necessary before you will 
trust them. Hence Lord John Russell once observed, in a 
sentence full of truth, " It is the nature of party in England 
to ask the assistance of men of genius, but to follow the 
guidance of men of character." 

" There's no power 
In ancestry to make the foolish wise, 
The ignorant learned, the cowardly and base 
Deserving our respect as brave and good. 
Hence man's best riches must be gained, not given, 
His noblest name deserved, and not derived." 

Our own Franklin attributed his success as a public man, 
not to his talents or his powers of speaking, — for these were 
but moderate, — but to his known integrity of character. 
" Hence it was," he says, " that I had so much weight with 
my fellow-citizens. I was but a bad speaker, never eloquent, 
subject to much hesitation in my choice of words, hardly cor- 
rect in language, and yet I generally carried my point." Char- 
acter creates confidence in men in high station as well as in 
humble life. It was said of the first Emperor Alexander of 
Russia, that his personal character was equivalent to a consti- 
tution. During the wars of the Fronde, Montaigne was the only 
man among the French gentry who kept his castle gates un- 
barred; and it was said of him, that his personal character 
was worth more to him than a regiment of horse. 

Character is power in a much higher sense than knowledge 
is power, for truthfulness, integrity, goodness, honor and con- 
sistency, are qualities which, perhaps more than any others, 
command the confidence and respect of mankind. When 
King Stephen, of England, was captured by his base enemies, 
and they asked him in derision, "Where is now your fort- 
ress?" "Here," was his bold reply, placing his band upon 
his heart. Integrity in word and deed is the backbone of 
character; and loyal adherence to veracity its most prominent 
characteristic. One of the finest testimonies to the character 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 243 

of the late Sir Robert Peel, was that borne by the Duke of 
Wellington in the House of Lords, a few days after the great 
statesman's death. " Your lordships," he said, " must all feel 
the high and honorable character of the late Sir Robert Peel. 
I was long connected with him in public life. We were both 
in the councils of our Sovereign together, and I had long the 
honor to enjoy his private friendship. In all the course of my 
acquaintance with him, I never knew a man in whose truth 
and justice I had greater confidence, or in whom I saw a more 
invariable desire to promote the public service. In the whole 
course of my communication with him, I never knew an in- 
stance in which he did not show the strongest attachment to 
truth; and I never saw in the whole course of my life the 
smallest reason for suspecting that he stated anything which 
he did not firmly believe to be the fact." And this high- 
minded truthfulness of the statesman was no doubt the secret 
of no small part of his influence and power. 

There is a truthfulness in action as well as in words, and in 
order to possess weight of character, a man must really be 
what he seems to be. When an American gentleman wrote 
to Granville Sharp, that from respect for his great virtues he 
had named one of his sons after him, Sharp wrote: "I must 
request you to teach him a favorite maxim of the family whose 
name you have given him, — Always endeavor to he really 
what you would wish to appear. This maxim, as my father 
informed me, was carefully and humbly practiced by his father 
also, whose sincerity became the principal feature of his char- 
acter, both in public and private life." Without the possession 
of such a character a man can never have self-respect, and he 
who respects not himself, is sure to lose the respect of all oth- 
ers about him. 

Hence the man with true weight of character is just the 
same in secret, as in the sight of men — in a word, he is thor- 
oughly honest; honest with himself, honest with his fellows, 
and honest before God. That boy was well-trained who, when 
asked why he did not appropriate some pears, as nobody was 
there to see him, replied, " Yes, there was — I was there to see 
myself." 



244 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



CHAPTEE XT. 

Examples of Excellence. 

There are deeds which should not pass away, 
And names that must not wither. * * * * 

The spirit of a single mind 
Makes that of multitudes take one direction, 
As roll the waters to the breathing wind. 

Byron. 

Some there are 
By their good deeds exalte 1, lofty minds 
And meditative authors of delight 
And happiness, which to the end of time 
Will live and spread and flourish. 

"Wordsworth. 

The man who'is not moved by what he reads, 
Who takes not fire at heroic deeds, 
Unworthy the blessings of the brave, 
Is base in kind and born to be a slave. 

COWPER. 

Pitch thy behavior low, thy projects high, 
So shalt thou humble and magnanimous be. 
Sink not in spirit; wl^ o aimeth at the sky 
Shoots higher much than he that means a tree. 
George Herbert. 

.IE power of imitation, especially in the young, is very 
strong and active. At first, this commences and is car- 
ried on wholly through the eye, but afterwards the 
ability to read and the consequent study of good models, come 
in to help perpetuate the impressions derived from vision. 
And in this instance, as in hundreds of others, the later power 
or the last pressure brought to bear upon the mind, proves 
the stronger and more lasting of the two. In other words. 




SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 245 

more minds are permanently benefited or injured by what 
they read, than by what they see and hear. "Out of sight, 
out of mind," often proves a true proverb; but that which is 
lodged in thought and memory, is not dependent upon any- 
thing for its power. Hence the diligent study of good exam- 
ples is one means of self-education, and the practice of it can 
be recommended without any fear of ill results. 

There is far less of originality in the world than is com- 
monly supposed. What men have done, men continue to do, 
thus making the characteristics of human nature in the long run 
comparatively uniform, and making the results of human life 
to be substantially repetitions with more or less of variation 
and individual coloring. "No individual in the universe 
stands alone: he is a component part of a system of mutual 
■dependencies; and by his several acts, he either increases or 
diminishes the sum of human good now and forever. As the 
present is rooted in the past, and the lives and the examples 
of our forefathers still to a great extent influence us, so are we 
by our daily acts contributing to form the condition and char- 
acter of the future. 

" The living man is a fruit formed and ripened by the culture 
of all the foregoing centuries. Generations six thousand 
deep stand behind us, each laying its hands upon its successor's 
shoulders, and the living generation continues the magnetic 
current of action and example destined to bind the remotest 
past with the most distant future. No man's acts die utterly; 
and though his body may resolve into dust and air, his good 
or his bad deeds will still be bringing forth fruit after their 
kind, and influencing generations of men for all time to come. 
It is in this momentous fact, that the great peril and responsi- 
bility of human existence lies. " 

As example is more powerful than precept, and sketches of 
self-made men who became more or less distinguished through 
the formation of good habits, and the exercise of commenda- 
ble qualities of mind, either native or acquired, are sure to 
leave their impress upon the thought of the reader, we pro- 
pose in this chapter to furnish a short and miscellaneous 



21G THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

collection of such as lie at our hand. These will be drawn 
from all classes and departments of life, and will follow no 
particular order. 

Commencing with industrial life, look at the career of Jo- 
siah Wedgwood, founder of the Staffordshire Potteries in 
England and the father of the now extensive crockery and 
china-ware trade. His father, a poor potter barely able to 
make a living, died when Josiah was eleven years old, and the 
boy was put to work as a thrower at his elder brother's wheel. 
The boy never received any school education worthy of the 
name, and all the culture which he afterwards received, he 
obtained for himself. About the time when the boy began to 
work at the potter's wheel, the manufacture of earthenware 
could scarcely be said to exist in England. What was pro- 
duced was altogether unequal to the supply of our domestic 
wants, and large quantities of the commoner sort of ware 
were imported from abroad, — principally from Delft, in Hol- 
land, whence it was usually known by the name of "Delft 
ware." -Porcelain for the rich was chiefly imported from 
China, and sold at a very high price. No porcelain capable of 
resisting a scratch with a hard point had as yet been made in 
that country. The articles of earthenware produced in Staf- 
fordshire were of the coarsest quality, and were for the most 
part hawked about by the workman themselves and their fam- 
ilies, or by peddlers, who carried their stocks upon their backs. 

While working with his brother as a thrower, Wedgwood 
caught the small-pox, then a most malignant disease; he was 
thrown into ill health, and the remains of the disease seem to 
have settled in his left leg, so that he was under the necessity 
of having it amputated, which compelled him to relinquish 
the potter's wheel. Some time after this we find him at Stoke, 
in partnership with a man named Harrison, as poor as him- 
self, — in fact, both were as yet but in the condition of common 
workmen. Wedgwood's taste for ornamental pottery, how- 
ever, already began to show itself; and leaving Harrison, we 
then find him joined to another workman named Whieldon> 
making earthenware knife-handles in imitation of agate and 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 247 

tortoise-shell, melon table-plates, green pickle-leaves, and such 
like articles. Whieldon being unwilling to pursue this fanci- 
ful branch of trade, Wedgwood left him, returned to Bnrslem 
where he was brought up, and set up for himself in a small 
thatched house. 

He was a close inquirer, an accurate observer, and among 
other facts which came under his notice was this, that earth 
containing silica became white after exposure to the heat of a 
furnace. This led him to mix silica with the red powder of 
the potteries, and to the discovery that both substances became 
white when calcined. He had then only to glaze the surface 
of this ware to obtain a most important article of commerce. 
Wedgwood now took new premises and began to manufacture 
white stone-ware on a large scale, and afterwards cream-colored 
ware, which acquired great celebrity. The improvement of 
his art now became a passion with him, and he worked at it 
with all his might. He devoted himself to chemical investi- 
gation and spared neither labor nor expense in furthering his 
plans and designs. 

He was cheerfully assisted in his objects by persons of rank 
and influence; for, working in the truest spirit, he readily 
commanded the help and encouragement of all true workers. 
He made for Queen Charlotte the first royal table-service of 
English manufacture, of the kind afterwards called "Queen's- 
ware," and was forthwith appointed her Royal Potter, a title 
which Wedgwood more prized than if he had been created a 
baron. Valuable sets of porcelain were intrusted to him for 
imitation, in which he succeeded to admiration. Sir William 
Hamilton lent him specimens of ancient art, from Hercula- 
neum, of which Wedgwood's ingenious workmen produced 
the most accurate and beautiful copies. The Duchess of Port- 
land outbid him for the Barberini Yase when that article was 
offered for sale; he bid as high as seventeen hundred guineas 
for it, but her grace secured it for the sum of eighteen hun- 
dred guineas; but when she learned Wedgwood's object she 
at once lent him the vase to copy. He produced fifty copies 
at a cost of about £2,500, and his expenses were not covered 



248 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

by their sale; but he gained his object, which was to show that 
whatever had been done, English skill and energy could 
and would accomplish. 

Wedgwood called to his aid the crucible of the chemist, 
the knowledge of the antiquary, and the skill of the artist. 
He found out Flaxman when a youth, and while he liberally 
nurtured his genius drew from him a large number of beauti- 
ful designs for his pottery and porcelain; converting them by 
his manufacture into objects of taste and excellence, and thus 
making them instrumental in the diffusion of classical art 
among the people. By careful experiment and study he was 
even enabled to re-discover the art of painting on porcelain 
or earthenware vases and similar articles, — an art practiced by 
the ancient Etruscans, but which had been lost since the time 
of Pliny. He distinguished himself by his own contributions 
to science, and his name is still identified with the pyrometer 
which he invented. 

He was also an indefatigable supporter of all measures of 
public utility; and the construction of the Trent and Mersey 
Canal, which completed the navigable communication between 
the eastern and western sides of the island, was mainly due to 
his public-spirited exertions allied to the engineering skill of 
Brindley. The road accommodation of the district being of 
an execrable character, he planned and executed a turnpike- 
road through the Potteries, ten miles in length. The reputa- 
tion he achieved was such that his works at Burslem, and 
subsequently those at Etruria which he founded and built, be- 
came a point of attraction to distinguished visitors from all 
parts of Europe. 

The result of Wedgwood's labors was, that the manufacture 
of pottery, which he found in the very lowest condition, be- 
came one of the staples of England; and instead of importing 
what they needed for home use from abroad, they became 
large exporters to other countries, supplying them with earth- 
enware even in the face of enormous prohibitory duties on 
articles of British produce. Wedgwood gave evidence as to 
his manufactures before Parliament in 1785, only some thirty 



SUCCESS IN "BUSINESS LIFE. 249 

years after lie had begun his operations; from which it ap- 
peared, that from providing only casual employment to a 
small number of inefficient and badly remunerated workmen, 
there were then about 20,000 persons deriving their bread di- 
rectly from the manufacture of earthenware, without taking 
into account the increased numbers to which it gave employ- 
ment in coal-mines, and in the carrying trade by land and sea, 
and the stimulus which it gave to employment in various 
ways and parts of the country. 

The man who took up this important work where "Wedg- 
wood left it, and carried it forward to still greater triumphs, 
was Herbert Minton, who was chiefly distinguished for the 
inexhaustible activity and ceaseless energy which he brought to 
bear upon the creation of a colossal business, which gave em- 
ployment to some 1,500 skilled artisans. Minton had a clear 
head, strong body, rare powers of observation, and great 
endurance, besides a pride in, and a love for his calling. Like 
Wedgwood, he employed first-rate artists, painters in enamel, 
sculptors, designers of flowers and figures, — and spared nei- 
ther pains nor expense in securing the best workmen. The 
talents of the men employed by him were carefully discrim- 
inated and duly recognized, and .merit felt stimulated by the 
hope of promotion and reward. 

The result soon was that articles of taste, which had for- 
merly been of altogether exceptional production, became 
objects of ordinary supply and demand; and objects of artistic 
beauty, the designs of which were supplied by the best artists, 
were placed w T ithin reach of persons of moderate means. The 
quality of the articles manufactured at his works became so 
proverbial, that one day when Pickford's carrier rudely deliv- 
ered a package from his cart at the hall-door of an exhibition 
of ceramic manufactures, and the officer in waiting expostu- 
lated with the man on his incautious handling of the package, 
his ready answer was: "Oh, never fear, sir; it's Minton's, it 
won't break." 

It is not a little remarkable that Mr. Minton, by his un- 
aided energy and enterprise, and at his own risk, was enabled 



250 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

successfully to compete with the Sevres manufactures of France, 
which are produced by the co-operation of a large number of 
talented men, and the assistance of almost unlimited state 
funds. In many of the articles exhibited at Paris, in 1851, 
Mr. Minton's even excelled those of similar character produced 
at the Imperial manufactory. In hard porcelain, also, he sur- 
passed the best specimens of Meissen and Berlin ware; in Pari- 
an, he was only approached by Copeland; while in the manufac- 
ture of encaustic tiles he stood without a rival. In perfecting 
these several branches Mr. Minton had many difficulties to 
encounter and failures to surmount, but with true energy and 
determination to succeed, he conquered them all and at length 
left the best of ancient tiles behind. 

Mention was made, in the account just given, of the artist, 
John Flaxman, whose career is fully as noteworthy as those 
of Wedgwood and Minton who employed him. He was the 
son of a humble seller of plaster-casts in New Street, Covent 
Garden; and when a child, he was so constant an invalid that 
it was his custom to sit behind the shop counter propped by 
pillows, amusing himself with drawing and reading. A be- 
nevolent clergyman, named Mathews, one day calling at the 
shop, found the boy trying to read a book, and on inquiring 
what it was, found it was a Cornelius Nepos, which his father 
had picked up for a few pence at a bookstall. The gentleman, 
after some conversation with the boy, said that was not the 
proper book for him to read, but that he would bring him a 
right one on the morrow; and the kind man was as good as 
his word. 

The Rev. Mr. Mathews used afterwards to say, that from 
that casual interview with the crippled little invalid behind the 
plaster-cast seller's shop counter, began an acquaintance which 
ripened into one of the best friendships of his life. He brought 
several books to the boy, among which w T ere Homer and 
"Don Quixote," in both of which Flaxman then and ever after 
took immense delight. His mind was soon full of the hero- 
ism which breathed through the pages of the former work, 
and, with the stucco Ajaxes and Achilli about him, loom- 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 251 

ing along the shop shelves, the ambition thus early took pos- 
session of him, that he too would design and embody in poetic 
forms those majestic heroes. His black chalk was at once in 
his hand, and the enthusiastic boy labored in a divine despair 
to body forth in visible shapes the actions of the Greeks and 
Trojans. 

Like all youthful efforts, his first designs were crude. The 
proud father one clay showed them to Roubilliac, the sculptor, 
who turned from them with a contemptuous "pshaw!" But 
the boy had the right staff in him; he had industry and pa- 
tience; and he continued to labor incessantly at his books and 
drawings. It was long before he could walk, and only learned 
to do so at length by hobbling along on crutches. When he 
was able to throw these away, Mr. Mathews invited him to 
his house and helped him in his self-culture, giving him les- 
sons in Greek and Latin. When under Mrs. Mathews he also 
attempted with his bit of charcoal to embody in outline such 
passages as struck his fancy. But when one of these was 
shown to Mortimer the artist, he exclaimed with affected sur- 
prise, " Is it an oyster? " 

But after much study his drawing improved so much that 
Mrs. Mathews obtained for him a commission from a lady to 
draw six original sketches in black chalk from subjects in Ho- 
mer. This was his first commission and a great event in his 
life, for he executed the order, was w r ell-praised and well-paid 
for his work, and soon afterward entered the Royal Academy. 
In his fifteenth year he gained the silver prize and next tried 
for the gold one, but lost it. This failure on the part of the 
youth was really of service to him; for defeats do not long 
cast down the resolute-hearted, but only serve to call forth 
their real powers. "Give me time," said he to his father 
"and I will yet produce works that the Academy will be proud 
to recognize." 

He redoubled his efforts, spared no pains, designed and 
modeled incessantly, and consequently made steady if not 
rapid progress. But meanwhile poverty threatened his fath- 
er's household ; the plaster-cast trade yielded a very bare living; 



252 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

and young Flaxman, with resolute self-denial, curtailed his 
hours of study, and devoted himself to helping his father in 
the humble details of his business. He laid aside his Homer 
to take up the plaster-trowel. He was willing to work in the 
humblest department of the trade so that his father's family 
might be supported, and the wolf kept from the door. To 
this drudgery of his art he served a long apprenticeship; but 
it did him good. It familiarized him with steady work, and 
cultivated in him the spirit of patience. The discipline may 
have been rough, but it was wholesome. 

Happily, young Flaxman' s skill in designing had reached the 
knowledge of Mr. Wedgwood, who sought him out for the 
purpose of employing him in designing improved patterns of 
china and earthenware to be produced at his manufactory. It 
may seem a humble department of art for Flaxman to have 
labored in; but it really was not so. Articles which are in 
daily use among the people, and are before their eyes at every 
meal, may be made the vehicles of art-education and minister 
to their highest culture. Before Wedgwood's time, the de- 
signs upon china and stone-ware were hideous, so, finding out 
Flaxman, he said to him: "Well, my lad, I have heard that 
you are a good draughtsman and clever designer. I'm a man- 
ufacturer of pots, — name, Wedgwood. Now, I want you to 
design some models for me,— nothing fantastic, but simple, 
tasteful, and correct in drawing. I'll pay you well. You 
don't think the work beneath you?" "By no means, sir," 
replied Flaxman, "indeed, the work is quite to my taste. 
Give me a few days, — call again and you will see what 1 can 
do." " That's right, — work away. Mind, I am in want of 
them now. They are for pots of all kinds, — teapots, jugs, 
teacups and saucers. But especially I want designs for a ta- 
ble-service. Begin with that. I mean to supply one for the 
royal table. Now, think of that, young man. What you 
design is meant for the eyes of royalty! " " I will do my best, 
sir, I assure you." And the kind gentleman bustled out of 
the shop as he had come in. 

Flaxman did his best. By the time that Mr. Wedgwood 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 253 

next called upon him, he had a numerous series of models pre- 
pared for various pieces of earthenware. They consisted 
chiefly of small groups in very low relief, — the subjects taken 
from ancient verse and history. Many of them are still in 
existence, and some are equal in beauty and simplicity to his 
after-designs for marble. The celebrated Etruscan vases, many 
of which were to be found in public museums and in the cab- 
inets of the curious, furnished him with the best examples of 
form, and these he embellished with his own elegant devices. 
"Stuart's Athens," then recently published, also furnished 
him with specimens of the purest-shaped Greek utensils, and 
he was not slow to adopt the best of them, and work them up 
into new and wondrous shapes of elegance and beauty. 

Flaxman continued at his work for several years, living a 
quiet, and secluded life, working during the day and reading 
in the evenings. At length in 1782, when twenty-seven years 
of age, he left his father's -house, hired one of his own, and 
married a cheery, bright-souled, noble woman by the name of 
Ann Denman. Like him, she had a taste for poetry and art, 
and was, besides, an enthusiastic admirer of her husband's 
genius. Yet when Sir Joshua Reynolds, — himself a bachelor, 
— met Flaxman shortly after his marriage, he said to him, " So, 
Flaxman, I am told you are married; if so, sir, I declare you 
are ruined for an artist." Flaxman went straight home, sat 
down beside his wife, took her hand in his, and said, " Ann, I 
am ruined for an artist." " How so, John ? How has it hap 
pened'4 and who has done it?" "It happened," he replied 
" in the church, and Ann Denman has done it." 

He then told her of Sir Joshua's remark, — whose opinion 
was well known, and had often been expressed, that if students 
would excel they must bring the whole powers of their mind 
to bear upon their art, from the moment they rise until .they 
go to bed; and also, that no man- could be a great artist unless 
he studied the grand works of Raphael, Michael Angelo, and 
others, at Rome and Florence. "And I," said Flaxman, draw- 
ing up his little figure to its full height, " I would be a great 
artist." "And a great artist you shall be," said his wife, 



254: THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

" and visit Rome too, if that be really necessary to make you 
great." "But how?" asked Flaxman. " Work and econo- 
mize" rejoined the brave wife; " I will never have it said 
that Ann Denman ruined John Flaxman for an artist." And 
so it w T as determined by the pair that the journey to Rome 
should be made when their means would admit. " I will go 
to Rome," said Flaxman, "and show the President that wed- 
lock is for a man's good rather than his harm; and you, Ann, 
shall accompany me." 

Patiently and happily this affectionate couple plodded on 
during five years in that humble little home in Wardour 
Street; always with the long journey to Rome before them. 
It was never lost sight of for a moment, and not a penny was 
uselessly spent that could be saved towards the necessary ex- 
penses. They said no word to any one about their project, 
solicited no aid from the Academy, but trusted to their own 
patient labor and love to pursue and achieve their object. By 
working for Wedgwood, who was a good paymaster, and sav- 
ing diligently, Flaxman and wife at length set out for Rome. 
Arrived there, he set himself at work and study, and after a 
while English visitors sought his studio and gave him com- 
missions at fifteen shillings apiece. He then prepared to 
return to England, his taste improved and cultivated by care- 
ful study; but before he left Italy, the Academies of Florence 
and Carrara recognized his merits by electing him a member. 

His fame had preceded him to England, and he soon found 
abundant lucrative employment. While at Rome, he had 
been commissioned to execute his famous monument in mem- 
ory of Lord Mansfield, and it was erected in the north transept 
of Westminster Abbey shortly after his return. It stands 
there in majestic grandeur, a monument to the genius of Flax- 
man himself, — calm, simple, and severe. No wonder that 
Banks, the sculptor, then in the heyday of his fame, exclaimed 
when he saw it, "This little man cuts us all out! " 

When the bigwigs of the Royal Academy heard of Flax- 
man's return, and especially when they had an opportunity of 
seeing and admiring his noble portrait-statue of Mansfield, 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 25* 

they were eager to have him enrolled among their number. 
The Royal Academy always had the art of running to 
the help of the strong; and when an ' artist proved that he 
could achieve a reputation without the Academy, then the 
Academy was most willing to " patronize " him. He allowed his 
name to be proposed in the candidates' list of associates, and 
was immediately elected. His progress was now rapid, and 
he was constantly employed. Perseverance and study, which 
had matured his genius, had made him great, and he went on 
from triumph to triumph. 

But he appeared in yet a new character. The little boy who 
had begun his studies behind the poor plaster-cast seller's shop- 
counter in "New Street, Covent Garden, was now a man of 
high intellect and recognized supremacy in art, to instruct 
aspiring students, in the character of Professor of Sculpture 
in the Royal Academy. And no man better deserved to fill 
that distinguished office, for no man was better able to instruct 
others than he who had met and conquered his difficulties 
alone. Flaxman's monuments are known all over England, 
and their mute poetry beautifies many cathedrals, as well as 
rural churches. Their tenderness and grace, the soul and 
meaning which Flaxman put into them, has never been sur- 
passed. The historical monuments to Reynolds and Nelson 
in St. Paul's cathedral, are from his hand, and so were the 
rapid sketches illustrative of the Lord's Prayer published in 
lithograph some years since. After a long, peaceful, and 
happy life, Flaxman lost his affectionate wife Ann, but sur- 
vived her several years and continued to work, executing as 
his latest pieces, the celebrated " Shield of Achilles," and the 
" Archangel Michael vanquishing Satan." 

It is sometimes thought by those who have had no opportu- 
nity to learn the facts, that the titled aristocracy of England, 
those distinguished persons who are called the " Peers of the 
Realm," Lords, Dukes, Earls, etc., are descendants of families 
who once owned the greater part of the island and who won 
distinction in earlier times. And in some instances, this is 
true; but in many cases the English Peerage has been re- 



256 TIIE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

cruited from the lower and humbler ranks, and the houses are 
of modern origin. 

It appears that the^e titles are open to commoners in Eng- 
land, somewhat as Senatorships are open to the poorest and 
humblest in this country; about the only difference between 
the two being that in England a title once bestowed remains 
with the family and is inherited, whereas in this country it 
expires practically at the end of the term of service, and ac- 
tually at death. Here, every son must win the spurs of 
Knighthood for himself, if he wishes to wear them, while 
across the sea, when once earned, they are handed down from 
father to son, without any effort on the son's part. The civil 
wars and rebellions ruined the old nobility and dispersed their 
families, while the ranks of the modern peerage have been 
taken largely from honorable industry and from the profes- 
sions. 

Thus the earldom of Cornwallis was founded by Thomas 
Cornwallis, the Cheapside merchant; that of Essex by Wil- 
liam Capel, the draper; and that of Craven by William Cra- 
ven, the merchant tailor. The modern Earl of Warwick is not 
descended from " the Kingmaker," but from William Greville, 
the wool-stapler; while the modern dukes of Northumberland 
find their head, not in the Percies, but in Hugh Smithson, a 
respectable London apothecary. The founders of the families 
of Dartmouth, Radnor, Ducie, and Pomfret, were respectively 
a skinner, a silk manufacturer, a merchant tailor, and a Calais 
merchant; while the founders of the peerages of Tankerville, 
Dormer and Coventry, were dry-goods men. 

The ancestors of Earl Pomney, and Lord Dudley and Ward, 
were goldsmiths and jewelers; and Lord Dacres was a banker 
in the reign of Charles L, as Lord Overstone is in that of 
Queen Victoria. Edward Osborne, the founder of the duke- 
dom of Leeds, was apprenticed to William Hewet, a rich 
clothworker on London Bridge, whose only daughter he cour- 
ageously rescued from drowning by leaping into the Thames 
after her, and eventually married. Among other peerages 
founded by trade, are those of Fitzwilliam, Leigh, Petre, Cow- 
per, Darnley, Hill and Carrington. 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 257 

Not to mention the older feudal lords, whose tenure de- 
pended upon military service, and who so often led the van of 
the English armies in great national encounters, we may 
point to Nelson, St. Yincent, and Lyons, — to Wellington, 
Hill, Hardinge, Clyde, and many more in recent times, who 
have nobly earned their rank by their distinguished services. 
But plodding industry has far oftener worked its way to the 
peerage by the honorable pursuit of the legal profession, than 
by any other. No fewer than seventy British peerages, in- 
cluding two dukedoms, have been founded by successful law- 
yers. Mansfield and Erskine were, it is true, of noble families; 
but the latter used to thank God, that out of his own family 
he did not know a lord. Mansfield owed nothing to his noble 
relations, who were poor and uninfluential. His success was 
the legitimate and logical result of the means which he sedu- 
lously employed to secure it. When a boy he rode up from 
Scotland to London on a pony, — taking two months to make 
the journey. After a course of school and college, he entered 
upon the profession of the law, and he closed a career of pa- 
tient and ceaseless labor as Lord Chief Justice of England, the 
functions of which office he is admitted to have performed 
with unsurpassed ability, justice and honor. 

The others were for the most part, the sons of attorneys, 
grocers, clergymen, merchants and hard-working members of 
the middle class. Out of this profession have sprung the 
peerages of Howard and Cavendish, the first peers of both 
families having been judges; those of Aylesford, Ellenbor- 
ough, Guildford, Shaftesbury, Hardwicke, Cardigan, Claren- 
don, Camden, Ellesinere, Eosslyn; and others nearer our own 
day, such as Tenterden, Eldon, Brougham, Denman, Truro, 
Lyndhurst, St. Leonards, Cranworth, Campbell, and Chelms- 
ford. 

The eminent Lord Lyndhurst's father was a portrait-painter, 
and that of St. Leonard's, a hair-dresser in Burlington street. 
Young Edward Sugden was originally an errand-boy in the 
office of the late Mr. Groom, of Henrietta Street, Cavendish 
Square, a certificated conveyancer; and it was there that the 
IT 



25 S THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

future Lord Chancellor of Ireland obtained his first notions of 
law. The origin of the late' Lord Tenterden was perhaps the 
humblest of all, nor was he ashamed of it; for he felt that the 
industry, study, and application, by means of which he 
achieved his eminent position, were entirely due to himself. 

It is related of him, that on one occasion he took his son 
Charles to a little shed then standing opposite the western 
front of Canterbury Cathedral, and pointing it out to him, 
said, "Charles, you see this little shop; I have brought you 
here on purpose to show it to you. In that shop your grand- 
father used to shave for a penny! that is the proudest reflection 
of my life." When a boy, Lord Tenterden was a singer in the 
cathedral, and it is a curious circumstance that his destination- 
in life was changed by a disappointment. When he and Mr. 
Justice Richards were going the Home Circuit together they 
went to service in the cathedral, and when Richards com- 
mended the voice of a singing-man in the choir, Lord Tenter- 
den said, " Ah! that is the only man I ever envied. When 
at school in this town, we were candidates for a chorister's 
place, and he obtained it." 

Not less remarkable was the rise of John Scott, afterwards 
Lord Eldon, to the distinguished office of Lord Chancellor 
lie was the son of a Newcastle coal-fitter, a mischievous rather 
than a studious boy, a great scape-grace at school and the sub- 
ject of many terrible thrashings for robbing orchards. His 
father first thought of putting him as an apprentice to a gro- 
cer, and aferwards had almost made up his mind to make a 
coal-fitter of him, but about this time his eldest brother Wil- 
liam (afterwards Lord Stowell) had gained a scholarship at 
Oxford and wrote to his father, saying, "Send Jack up to me." 
Accordingly John went up to Oxford, obtained a fellowship, 
but soon fell in love, ran away with the girl across the border 
and got married, and, as his friends thought, ruined himself 
for life. But John said, "I have married rashly, and now am 
determined to work hard to provide for the woman I love." 
He went up to London, took a small house, and settled down 
to the study of the law. He worked with great diligence and 



SUCCESS IIST BUSINESS LIEE. 259 

resolution, rising at four every morning, and studying till late 
at night, binding a wet towel round his head to keep himself 
awake. Too poor to study under a special pleader, he copied 
out three folio volumes from a manuscript collection of prec- 
edents. 

Long after, when Lord Chancellor, passing down Cursitor 
Lane one day, he said to his secretary, " Here was my first 
perch; many a time do I recollect coming down this street 
with sixpence in my hand to buy sprats for supper." When 
at length called to the bar, he waited long for emplojmient. 
His first year's earnings amounted to only nine shillings. For 
four years he assiduously attended the London courts and the 
Northern Circuit, with little better success. Even in his na- 
tive town he seldom had other than pauper cases to defend. 
The results were indeed so discouraging, that he had almost 
-determined to relinquish his chance of London business, and 
.settle down in some provincial town as a country barrister. 
His brother William wrote home, "Business is dull with poor 
Jack, very dull indeed!" But as he had escaped being a gro- 
cee, a coal-fitter, and a country parson, so did he also escape 
being a country lawyer. 

An opportunity at length occurred, which enabled John 
Scott to exhibit the large legal knowledge which he had so 
laboriously acquired. In a case in which he was employed, he 
urged a legal point against the wishes both of the attorney 
■and client who employed him. The Master of the Rolls de- 
cided against him, but on an appeal to the House of Lords, 
Lord Thurlow reversed the decision on the very point that 
Scott had urged. On leaving the House that day, a solicitor 
tapped him on the shoulder and said, " Young man, your bread- 
and-butter is cut for life." And the prophecy proved a faithful 
■one, for in 1783, at the age of thirty-two, he was appointed 
King's Counsel, put at the head of the Northern Circuit, sat 
in Parliament, and so went steadily up to the highest office 
the Crown had to bestow, holding it for twenty-five years. 

In a former chapter we gave an account of Sir William 
Phipps, a Yankee boy by birth, who founded the house of Nor- 



260 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

manby. Equally interesting and valuable is the example of 
Richard Foley, the founder of the house of Foley, whose- 
father was a small yeoman living in the center of one of the 
iron manufacturing districts of England. Richard was 
brought up to work at one of the branches of the trade, that 
of nail-making. He was thus a daily observer of the great 
labor and loss of time caused by the clumsy process then used 
for dividing the rods of iron into nails. It appeared about 
that time that the English nail-makers were gradually losings 
trade on account of the importation of Swedish nails which 
were made much faster and cheaper by reason of better mills 
and machinery. 

Young Foley determined to make himself master of this- 
new process. Accordingly, he suddenly disappeared from his- 
native town and was not heard of again for many years. No- 
one knew where he had gone, not even his own family. He 
had but little money, but contrived to get to Hull and then 
worked his passage to Sweden. The only article of property 
which he carried with him was a fiddle, and after landing in 
Sweden he begged and fiddled his way to the iron mines near 
Upsala. Being a capital musician, as well as a pleasant fel. 
low, he soon ingratiated himself into the good-will of tho 
workman, was received into all the different shops, stored his 
mind with observations, and then as suddenly disappeared 
from among the miners, as he had from home. 

Arrived in England, he communicated the results of his 
voyage to Mr. Knight and another person at Stourbridge, who 
had sufficient confidence in him to advance the requisite funds 
for the purpose of erecting buildings and machinery for split- 
ting iron by the new process. But when set c at work, to the 
great vexation and disappointment of all, and especially of 
Richard Foley, it. was found that the machinery would not act, 
— at all events it would not split the bars of iron. Again Fo- 
ley disappeared. It was thought that shame and mortification 
at his failure' had driven him away forever. Not so! Foley 
had determined to master this secret of iron-splitting, and he 
would yet do it. He had again set out for Sweden, accompanied 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. '261 

by his fiddle as before, and found his way to the iron-works, 
where he was joyfully welcomed by the miners; and, to make 
sure of their fiddler, they this time lodged him in the very 
splitting-mill itself. 

There was such an apparent absence of intelligence about the 
man, except in fiddle-playing, that the miners entertained no 
suspicions as to the object of their minstrel, whom they thus 
enabled to attain the very end and aim of his life. He now care- 
fully examined the works, and soon discovered the cause of 
his failure. He made drawings or tracings of the machinery 
as well as he could, for this was a branch of art quite new to 
him; and after remaining at the place long enough to enable 
him to verify his observations, and to impress the mechanical 
arrangements clearly and vividly on his mind, he again left 
the miners, reached a Swedish port, and took ship for England. 
A man of such purpose could not but succeed. He came back 
to his mills, changed his machinery, and set in motion that 
branch of industry which enabled England to hold her own 
nail-trade and also supply the markets of other nations. Fo- 
ley lived to see the results of his own perseverance and skill, 
and died respected and honored by the whole nation whose 
interests he had so faithfully served, while serving his own. 

Henry Bickersteth was the son of a surgeon at Kirkby 
Lonsdale in Westmoreland. His father designed him for his 
•own profession, and accordingly sent him to Edinburgh, and 
then to Cambridge, to complete his studies for that purpose. 
As a student the boy was distinguished for his intense appli- 
cation and steady devotion to the object before him. He dis- 
liked the profession, however, and wished to abandon it. 
Losing his health by close study, he became traveling physician 
for Lord Oxford and went to Italy. Upon his return, he went 
back to Cambridge, took his degree, and entered as a student 
in the Inner Temple. He worked as hard at law as he had 
done at medicine. 

Writing to his father he said, " Everybody says to me, 
'You are certain of success in the end, — only persevere;' and 
though I don't well understand how this is* to happen, I try 



262 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

to believe it as much as I can, and I shall not fail to do every- 
thing in my power." At twenty-eight he was called to the 
bar, and had every step in life yet to make. His means were 
straightened, and he lived npon the contributions of his friends. 
For years he studied and waited. Still no business came. He 
stinted himself in recreation, in clothes, and even in the nec- 
essaries of life; struggling on indefatigably through alL 
Writing home he " Confesses that he hardly knows how he 
shall be able to struggle on till he has had fair time and op- 
portunity to establish himself." 

After three year's waiting thus without success, he wrote to- 
his friends that, rather than be a burden upon them longer, he 
was willing to give the matter up and return to Cambridge,. 
" where he was sure of support and some profit." The friends at 
home sent him another small remittance, and he went on. 
Business gradually came in. Acquitting himself creditably 
in small matters, he w T as intrusted with cases of greater im- 
portance. He was a man who never missed an opportunity, 
nor allowed a legitimate chance of improvement to escape 
him. His unflinching industry soon began to tell upon his 
fortunes; a few more years and he was not only enabled to do 
without assistance from home, but he was in a position to pay 
back with interest the debts which he had incurred. The 
clouds had dispersed, and the after-career of Llenry Bicker- 
steth was one of honor, of emolument, and of distinguished 
fame. He ended his career as Master of the Rolls, sitting in 
the House of Peers as Baron Langdale. 

Dr. David Livingstone has told the story of his own life 
in that modest and unassuming manner so thoroughly charac- 
teristic of the man himself. His ancestors were poor but 
honest Highlanders, and one of them is said to have left be- 
hind him as his only legacy the precept, "Be honest." At 
the age of ten, Livingstone was put to work in a cotton fac- 
tory. With part of his first week's wages he bought a Latin 
grammar and commenced to learn that language at a night 
school. When not sent to bed by his mother, he would sit up 
till twelve or later conning his lessons, although he had to^rise 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 263 

the next morning by six. In this way he went through Vir- 
gil and Horace at the same time reading scientific works and 
books of travels. He also made some proficiency in the study 
of botany. He even carried on his reading amidst the roar 
of the machinery in the mill, by placing the book upon the 
spinning jenny which he worked so that he could catch sen- 
tence after sentence as he passed. 

In this way the persevering factory boy acquired much use- 
ful knowledge; and as he grew older, the desire possessed him 
of becoming a missionary to the heathen. With this object 
he set himself to obtain a medical education, in order the bet" 
ter to-be qualified for the enterprise. He accordingly econo- 
mized his earnings, and saved as much money as enabled him 
to support himself while attending the Medical and Greek 
classes, as well as the Divinity Lectures at Glasgow, for several 
winters, working as a cotton spinner during the remainder of 
each year. He thus supported himself during his college 
career entirely by his own earnings as a factory workman, 
never having received a farthing of help from any other source. 
"Looking back now," he honestly says, "at that time of toil, 
I cannot but feel thankful that it formed such a material part 
of my early education; and, were it possible, I should like to 
begin life over again in the same lowly style, and to pass 
through the same hardy training." 

At length he finished his medical curriculum, wrote his 
Latin thesis, passed his examinations, and was admitted a licen- 
tiate of the Faculty of Physicians and Surgeons. At first he 
thought of going to China, but the war then raging with that 
country prevented his following out that idea; and having of- 
fered his services to the London Missionary Society, he was by 
them sent out to Africa, which he reached. in 1840. He had 
intended to proceed to China by Ins own efforts; and he says 
the only pang he had in going to Africa at the charge of the 
London Missionary Society was, because " it was not quite 
agreeable to one accustomed to work his own way, to become 
in a manner dependent upon others." 

Arrived 'in Africa, he set to work with great vigor. He 



264: THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

could not brook the idea of merely entering upon the labors 
of others, but cut out a large sphere of' independent work, 
preparing himself for it by undertaking manual labor in 
building and other handicraft employment, in addition to 
teaching, which, he says, " made me generally as much ex- 
hausted and unfit for study in the evenings as ever I had been 
when a cotton-spinner. While laboring among the Bechu- 
anas, he dug canals, built houses, cultivated fields, reared cattle, 
and taught the natives while he worked with them. At first, 
when starting with a party of them on foot upon a long jour- 
ney, he overheard their observations upon his appearance and 
powers. — " He is not strong," said they; "he is quite- slim, 
and only appears stout because he puts himself into those bags 
(trousers); he will soon break up." 

This caused the missionary's Highland blood to rise, and 
made him despise the fatigue of keeping them all at the top of 
their speed for days together, until he heard them expressing 
proper opinions of his pedestrian powers. What he did in 
Africa, and how he worked, may be learned from his own " Mis- 
sionary Travels," one of the most fascinating books of its 
kind that has ever been given to the public. One of his last 
known acts is thoroughly characteristic of the man. The 
"Birkenhead" steam launch, which he took out with him to 
Africa, having proved a failure, he sent home orders for the 
construction of another at an estimated cost of £2,000. This 
sum he proposed to defray out of the means which he had set 
aside for his children arising from the profits of his travels. 

John C. Loudon, the landscape gardener, was another man 
ol industrious character, and possessed of an extraordinary work- 
ing-power. The son of a farmer near Edinburgh, he was early 
inured to work. His skill in drawing plans and making 
sketches of scenery induced his father to train him for a land- 
scape gardener. During his apprenticeship he sat up two 
whole nights every week to study; yet he worked harder during 
the day than any laborer. During his studious hours he 
learned French, and before he was eighteen translated a life of 
Abelard for an Encyclopaedia. He was so eager to make pro- 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 265 

gress in life, that when only twenty, while working as a gard- 
ener in England, he wrote down in his note-book, " I am now 
twenty years of age, and perhaps a third part of my life has 
passed away, and yet what have I done to benefit my fellow- 
men?" an unusual reflection for a youth of only twenty. 
From French he procecled to learn German, and rapidly mas- 
tered that language. 

He now took a large farm for the purpose of introducing 
Scotch improvements in the art of agriculture, and soon suc- 
ceded in realizing a considerable income. The continent bein^ 
thrown open on the cessation of the war, he proceeded to travel 
for the purpose of observation, making sketches of the system 
of gardening in all countries, which he afterwards introduced 
in the historical part of his laborious Encyclopaedia of Garden- 
ing. He twice repeated his journeys abroad for a similar pur- 
pose, the result of which appeared in his books which per- 
haps are among the most remarkable works of their kind 
distinguished for the immense mass of useful matter which 
they contain, gathered by dint of persevering industry and 
labor such as has rarely been equaled. 

Men who are resolved to find a way for themselves, will al- 
ways find opportunities enough; and if they do not lie ready 
to their hand, they will make them. It is not those who have 
enjoyed the advantages of colleges, museums, and public gal- 
leries that have accomplished the most for science and art; 
nor have the greatest mechanics and inventors been trained in 
mechanics' institutes. Necessity, oftener than facility, has been 
the mother of invention; and the most prolific school of all 
has been the school of difficulty. Some of the very best work- 
men have had the most indifferent tools to work with. But it 
is not tools that make the workman, but the trained skill and 
perseverance of the man himself. Indeed it is proverbial that 
the bad workman never yet had a good tool. 

Some one asked Opie by what wonderful process he mixed 
his colors. "I mix them with my brains, sir," was his reply. 
It is the same with every workman who would excel. Fergu- 
son made marvelous things, — such as his wooden clock, that 



266 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

accurately measured the hours, — by means of a common pen- 
knife, a tool in everybody's hand. A pan of water and two 
thermometers were the tools by which Dr. Black discovered 
latent heat; and a prism, a lens, and a sheet of pasteboard en- 
abled Newton to unfold the composition of light and the 
origin of colors. An eminent foreign savant once called upon 
Dr. Wollaston and requested to be shown over his laboratories 
in which science had been enriched by so many important dis- 
coveries, when the doctor took him into a little study, and, 
pointing to an old tea-tray on the table containing a few 
watch-glasses, test papers, a small balance, and a blowpipe, 
said, " There is all the laboratory that I have!" 

Stothard learned the art of combining colors by closely 
studying butterflies' wings; he would often say that no one 
knew what he owed to these tiny insects. Watt made his 
first model of the condensing engine out of an old anatomist's 
syringe used to inject arteries previous to dissection. GifTord 
worked his first problem in mathematics, when a cobbler's 
apprentice, upon small scraps of leather which he beat smooth 
for the purpose; while Rittenhouse, the astronomer, first calcu- 
lated eclipses on his plough-handle. Professor Lee was first 
attracted to the study of Hebrew by finding a Bible in this 
language in a synagogue while working as a carpenter at re- 
pairing the benches. He bought a cheap, second-hand He- 
brew grammar, set himself at work, learned the language for 
himself, and so was able to read the book in the original. The 
Duke of Argyle asked Edmund Stone how he, a poor gard- 
ener's boy, contrived to be able to read Newton's Principia in 
Latin. The youth replied: "One needs only to know the 
twenty- four letters of the alphabet, in order to learn every- 
thing else he wishes." Application, perseverance, and the 
right improvement of opportunities will do the rest. 

Dr. Joseph Priestley the founder of a new department of 
science, and the discoverer of many gases, was accidentally 
drawn to the subject by the circumstance of his residing in 
the neighborhood of a large brewery. Being an attentive ob- 
server, he noted, in visiting the brewery, the peculiar appear^ 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 267 

ances attending the extinction of lighted chips in the gas 
floating over the fermented liquor. He was forty years old 
at the time, and knew nothing of chemistry; he obtained ac- 
cess, however, to books, which taught him little, for as yet 
nothing was known on the subject. Then he commenced ex- 
perimenting, devising his own apparatus, which was of the 
rudest description. The curious results of his first experi- 
ments led to others, which in his hands shortly became the 
science of pneumatic chemistry. About the same time, 
Scheelc was obscurely working in the same direction in a re- 
mote Swedish village; and he discovered several new gases, 
with no more effective apparatus at his command than a few 
apothecaries' phials and pig's bladders. 

Sir Humphrey Davy, when an apothecary's apprentice, 
performed his first experiments with instruments of the rudest 
description. He extemporized the greater part of them him- 
self, out of the motley materials which chance threw in his 
way. The pots and pans of the kitchen, and the phials and 
vessels of his master's surgery, were remorselessly put in 
requisition. It happened that a French vessel was wrecked 
off the Land's End, and the surgeon escaped, bearing with 
him his case of instruments, among which was an old-fash- 
ioned clyster apparatus; this article he presented to Davy, with 
wmom he had become acquainted. The apothecary's appren- 
tice received it with great exultation, and forthwith employed 
it as a part of a pneumatic apparatus which he contrived, 
afterwards using it to perform the duties of an air-pump. 

The words which Davy entered in his note -book, when 
about twenty years of age, working away in Dr. Bedcloes' 
laboratory at Bristol, were eminently characteristic of him: 
" I have neither riches, nor power, nor birth, to recommend 
me; yet, if I live, I trust I shall not be of less service to man- 
kind and my friends, than if I had been born with all these 
advantages." Davy possessed the capability, as Faraday did, 
of devoting all the powers of his mind to the practical and 
experimental investigation of a subject in all its bearings; and 
such a mind will rarely fail, by dint of mere industry and 



268 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

patient thinking, in producing results of the highest order. 
Coleridge said of Davy, " There is an energy and elasticity in 
his mind, which enables him to seize on and analyze all ques- 
tions, pushing them to their legitimate consequences. Every 
subject in Davy's mind has the principle of vitality. Living 
thoughts spring up like turf under his feet." Davy, on his 
part, said of Coleridge, whose abilities he greatly admired, 
"With the most exalted genius, enlarged views, sensitive heart, 
and enlightened mind, he will be the victim of a want of or- 
der, precision, and regularity." 

Cuvier, when a youth, was one day strolling along the sands 
near Fiquainville, in Normandy, when he observed a cuttle- 
fish lying stranded on the beach. He was attracted by the 
curious object, took it home to dissect, and began the study of 
the mollusca, which ended in his becoming one of the greatest 
among natural historians. In like manner, Hugh Miller's 
curiosity was excited by the remarkable traces of extinct sea- 
animals in the Old Red Sandstone, on which he worked as a 
quarryman. He inquired, observed, studied, and became a 
geologist. " It was the necessity," said he, "which made me 
a quarrier, that taught me to be a geologist." 

When the building committee advertised for plans of the 
Crystal Palace of 1851, the successful competitor was at the 
time acting as gardener to the Duke of Devonshire in England. 
He is now known as Sir Joseph Paxton. The architects and 
engineers were very much puzzled when Paxton submitted his 
design, but its novelty and suitableness for the purposes in- 
tended, at once secured its adoption. Paxton made his first 
sketch of the building upon a sheet of blotting-paper in the 
rooms of the Midland Railway Company at Derby, but this 
sketch indicated its principal features as accurately as the fin- 
ished drawings did afterward. Was it a sudden idea, an in- 
spiration of genius? Not at all. The architect of the Crystal 
Palace was simply a man who cultivated opportunities; a 
laborious, painstaking man whose life had been one of self- 
improvement and assiduous cultivation of knowledge. The 
idea of the building, as Paxton declared in a subsequent lee- 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 269 

tnre, was slowly and patiently elaborated by experiments 
extending over many years, and the Exhibition of 1851 only 
afforded him an opportunity to put his idea forward — with 
what result we have seen. 

Dr. Marshall Hall was the son of Robert Hall of Bas- 
ford, England, a manufacturer who was the inventor of bleach- 
ing cotton cloth by chlorine on a large scale. In the old 
process of bleaching, each piece had to be exposed to the air 
several weeks in the summer, and kept continually moist by 
hand labor. For this purpose meadow land was essential. 
Now a single establishment near Glasgow, bleaches 1400 pieces 
daily throughout the year in as many hours as it formerly 
took weeks. To this same man's second son, Samuel Notting- 
ham Hall, the world is indebted for the manufacture and 
bleaching of the celebrated Nottingham lace. Marshall Hall 
became a physician and a physiologist and his name will rank 
w T ith those of Harvey, Hunter, Jenner, and Bell. During the 
whole course of his long and useful life he was a most care- 
ful and minute observer; and no fact, however apparently in- 
significant, escaped his attention. 

His important discovery of the diastaltic nervous system, 
by which his name will long be known among scientific men,, 
originated in an exceedingly simple circumstance. When 
investigating the pneumonic circulation in the Triton, the de- 
capitated object lay upon the table; and on separating the tail 
and accidentally pricking the external integument, he observed 
that it moved with energy, and became contorted into various 
forms. He had not touched a muscle nor a muscular nerve; 
what then was tip nature of these movements? The same 
phenomena had probably often before been observed, but Dr 
Hall was the first to apply himself perseveringly to the inves- 
tigation of their causes ; and he exclaimed on the occasion, " I 
will never rest satisfied until I have found all this out, and 
made it clear." His attention to the subject was almost in- 
cessant; and it is estimated that in the course of his life he 
devoted not less than 25,000 hours to its experimental and 
chemical investigation ; at the same time he was carrying on 



270 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

an extensive private practice, and officiating as a lecturer at 
St. Thomas' Hospital and other medical schools. At first, his 
discovery was rejected by the Royal Society, but after seven- 
teen years it was accepted and acknowledged both at home 
and abroad. 

Sib William Hebschel, the astronomer, was the son of a 
poor German musician who came to England from the Conti- 
nent to seek his fortune. He first joined a military band and 
played the oboe. A Dr. Miller of Doncaster heard Herschel 
perform a solo on a violin and was so much pleased with it 
and him, that he offered the young musician a home at his. 
house. Herschel accepted the offer, played at concerts when 
wanted, and spent the rest of his time studying in Dr. Miller's 
library. A new organ having been built at Halifax, Herschel 
applied for the position of organist and was selected. While 
there at Halifax, he began to study mathematics, entirely un- 
assisted. 

Next he went to Bath and joined a band, besides officiating 
as organist in a chapel. Some recent discoveries in astronomy 
having arrested his mind, and awakened in him a powerful spirit 
of curiosity, he sought and obtained from a friend the loan of a 
two-foot Gregorian telescope. So fascinated was the poor mu- 
sician by the science, that he even thought of purchasing a 
telescope, but the price asked by the London optician was so 
alarming, that he determined to make one. Those who know 
what a reflecting telescope is, and the skill which is required 
to prepare the concave metallic speculum which forms the most 
important part of the apparatus, will be able to form some 
idea of the difficulty of this undertaking. Nevertheless, 
Herschel succeeded, after long and painful labor, in completing 
a five-foot reflector, with which he had the gratification of ob- 
serving the ring and satellites of Saturn. 

ISTot satisfied with this triumph, he proceeded to make other 
instruments in succession, of seven, ten, and even twenty feet. 
In constructing the seven-foot reflector, he finished no fewer 
than two hundred specula before he produced one that would 
bear any power that was applied to it, — a striking instance of 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 271 

the persevering laboriousness of the man. While sublimely 
ganging the heavens with his instruments, he continued pa- 
tiently to earn his bread by piping to the fashionable frequent- 
ers of the Bath Pump-Room. So eager was he in his astro- 
nomical observations, that he would steal away from the room 
during an interval of the performance, give a little turn to his 
telescope, and contentedly return to his oboe. Thus working 
away, Herschel discovered the Georgium Sidus, the orbit and 
rate of motion of which he carefully calculated and sent to the 
Royal Society, when the humble oboe-player found himself at 
once famous. He was shortly after appointed Astronomer 
Royal, and by the kindness of George III. placed in comforta- 
ble circumstances for life. 

Hugh Miller has told the story of his life in a book called, 
" My Schools and Schoolmasters." It is full of lessons of self- 
help, and is the history of the formation of a truly noble 
character. His father was drowned at sea when he was but a 
child, leaving the boy in the care of his widowed mother. He 
had some school training, read much, and gleaned pickings of 
odd knowledge from many quarters. With a big hammer 
which had belonged to his great-grandfather, the boy went 
about chipping the stones and laying up specimens of mica, 
porphyry, garnet, and such like. Sometimes he had a day in 
the woods, and found wonderful geological curiosities there. 
While searching among the rocks on the beach, the farm-ser- 
vants would ask him whether he was " getting silver among 
the stones," but the boy kept on, paying no heed to any unkind 
remarks. 

His uncles were very anxious to have him enter the minis- 
try, and offered to pay all his expenses at college, but the 
youth did not feel called to the ministry, and finally the uncles 
gave up the point. Hugh was accordingly apprenticed to the 
trade of his choice, — that of a working stonemason; and he 
began his laboring career in a quarry looking out upon the 
Cromarty Frith. This quarry proved one of his best schools. 
The remarkable geological formations which it displayed 
awakened his curiosity. The bar of deep-red stone beneath, 



272 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

and the bar of pale-red clay above, were noted by the young 
qnarryman, who even in such unpromising subjects found 
matter for observation and reflection. Where other men saw 
nothing, he detected analogies, differences, and peculiarities, 
which set him to thinking He simply kept his eyes and his 
mind open; was sober, diligent, and persevering; and this was 
the secret of his intellectual growth. 

His curiosity was excited and kept alive by the curious or- 
ganic remains, principally of old and extinct species of fishes, 
ferns, and ammonites, which lay revealed along the coasts by 
the washings of the waves, or were exposed by the stroke of 
his mason's hammer. He never lost sight of this subject; 
went on accumulating observations, comparing formations, 
until at length, when no longer a working mason, many years 
afterwards, he gave to the world his highly interesting work 
on the Old Red Sandstone, which at once established his rep- 
utation as a scientific ^eolo^ist. But this work was the fruit 
of long years of patient observation and research. As he 
modestly states in his autobiography, "The only merit to 
which I lay claim in the case is that of patient research, — a 
merit in which whoever wills may rival or surpass me; and 
this humble faculty of patience, when rightly developed, may 
lead to more extraordinary developments of idea than even 
genius itself." 

John Leyden was the son of a Shepherd in one of the 
wildest valleys of Roxburghshire, and was almost entirely self- 
educated. Like many Scotch shepherds' sons — like Hogg, 
who taught himself to write by copying the letters of a 
printed book as he lay watching his flock on the hill-side — 
like Cairns, who from tending sheep on the Lammermoors, 
raised himself by dint of application and industry to the pro- 
fessor's chair which he so long worthily held — like Murray ■ 
Ferguson, and many more, Leyden was early inspired by a 
thirst for knowledge. "When a poor barefooted boy, he walked 
six or eight miles across the moors daily to learn reading at 
the little village school-house of Kirkton, and this was all the 
education he received; the rest he acquired for himself. 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 273 

He found his way to Edinburgh to attend the college there, 
setting the extremest penury at utter defiance. He was first 
discovered as a frequenter of a small bookseller's shop kept by 
Archibald Constable, afterwards so well known as a publisher. 
He would pass hour after hour perched on a ladder in mid-air, 
with some great folio in his hand, forgetful of the scanty meal 
of bread and water which awaited him at his miserable lodg- 
ing. Access to books and lectures comprised all within the 
bounds of his wishes. Thus he toiled and battled at the gates 
of science until his unconquerable perseverance carried every- 
thing before it. Before he had attained his nineteenth year 
he had astonished all the professors in Edinburgh by his pro- 
found knowledge of Greek and Latin, and the general mass of 
information he had acquired. 

Having turned his views to India, lie sought employment 
in the civil service, but failed. He was, however, informed 
that a surgeon's assistant's commission was open to him. But 
he was no surgeon, and knew no more of the profession than a 
child. He could, however, learn. Then he was told that he 
must be ready to pass in six months! Nothing daunted, he 
set to work to acquire in six "months what usually requires 
three years. At the end of six months he took his degree 
with honor. Scott and a few friends helped to fit him out, 
and he sailed for India, after publishing a poem entitled, " The 
Scenes of Infancy." An early death by fever only prevented 
him from becoming one of the greatest of Oriental scholars. 

To know how the example of one of the poorest of men 
may affect society, hear what Dr. Guthrie of Scotland says of 
the influence of John Pounds, a Portsmouth cobbler, upon 
his own career as the apostle of the ragged-school movement 
" The interest I have been led to take in this cause is an ex- 
ample of how, in Providence, a man's destiny, — his course of 
life, like that of a river,— may be determined and affected by 
very trivial circumstances. It is rather curious, — at least it is 
interesting to me to remember, — that it was by a picture I 
was first led to take an interest in ragged schools, — -by a pic- 
ture in an old, obscure, decaying burgh that stands on the 
18 



274 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

shores of the Frith of Forth, the birthplace of Thomas Chal- 
mers. 

" I went to see this place many years ago, and, going into an 
inn for refreshment, I found the room covered with pictures 
of shepherdesses with their crooks, and sailors in holiday attire, 
not particularly interesting. But above the chimney-piece 
there was a large print, more respectable than its neighbors, 
which represented a cobbler's room. The cobbler was there 
himself, spectacles on nose, an old shoe between his knees, — 
the massive forehead and firm mouth indicating great deter- 
mination of character, and beneath his bushy eyebrows, 
benevolence gleamed out on a number of poor ragged boys and 
girls who stood at their lessons round the busy cobbler. 

"My curiosity was awakened; and in the inscription I read 
how this man, John Pounds, a cobbler in Portsmouth, taking 
pity on the multitude of poor ragged children left by minis, 
ters and magistrates and ladies and gentlemen, to go to ruin 
on the streets, — how, like a good shepherd, he gathered in 
these wretched outcasts, — how he had trained them to God 
and to the world, — and how, while earning his daily bread by 
the sweat of his brow, he had rescued from misery and saved 
to society not less than five hundred of these children. I felt 
ashamed of myself. I felt reproved for the little I had done. 
My feelings were touched. I was astonished at this man's 
achievements; and I well remember, in the enthusiasm of the 
moment, saying to my companion (and I have seen in my 
cooler and calmer moments no reason for unsaying the saying)? 
— 'That man is an honor to humanity, and deserves the tall- 
est monument ever raised within the shores of Britain.' I 
took up that man's history, and I found it animated by the 
spirit of Him who had ' compassion on the multitude.' 

"John Pounds was a clever man besides; and, like Paul, if 
he could not win a poor boy any other way, he won him by 
art. He would be seen chasing a ragged boy along the quays, 
and compelling him to come to school, not by the power of a 
policeman, but by the power of a hot potato. He knew the 
love an Irishman had for a potato; and John Pounds might be 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 275 

seen running holding under the boy's nose a potato, like an 
Irishman, very hot, and with a coat as ragged as himself. 
When the day comes when honor will be done to whom honor 
is due, I can fancy the crowd of those whose fame poets have 
sung, and to whose memory monuments have been raised, 
dividing like the wave, and, passing the great, and the noble, 
and the mighty of the land, this poor, obscure old man step- 
ping forward and receiving the especial notice of Him who 
said, 'Inasmuch as ye did it to one of the least of these, ye 
did it also to me.'" 

There are many more illustrious names which might be 
cited to prove the truth of the common saying that "it is 
never too late to learn." Even at advanced years men can do 
much, if they will determine to make a beginning. Sir Henry 
Spelman did not begin the study of science until lie was be- 
tween fifty and sixty years of age. Franklin was fifty before 
he fully' entered upon the study of ^Natural Philosophy. Dry- 
den and Scott were not known as authors until each was in 
his fortieth year. Boccaccio, was thirty-five when he entered 
upon his literary career, and Alfieri was forty-six when he 
commenced the study of Greek. Dr. Arnold learned German 
at an advanced age for the purpose of reading. Niebuhr in the 
original; and in like manner James Watt, when about forty 
learned French, German, and Italian, that he might read the 
valuable mechanical works published in those languages. 
Rev. Robert Hall was once found lying upon the floor, racked 
by pain, learning Italian in his old age. Handel was forty- 
eight before he published any of his great works. None 
but the frivolous or the indolent will say, " I am too old to 
learn/' 

In fact, precocity in youth is quite as often a symptom of 
disease, as an indication of permanent intellectual vigor. 
What becomes of all the remarkably smart children? Trace 
them through life and it will be found that the dull boys often 
shoot ahead of them. An interesting chapter might be writ- 
ten on the subject of illustrious dunces, — dull boys, but bril- 
liant men. We have room, however, for only a few instances, 



276 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. ! 

Pietro di Cortona, the painter, was thought so stupid that he 
was nicknamed " Ass's Head " when a boy; and Tomaso Guidi 
was generally known as "heavy Tom," though by diligence he 
afterwards raise'd himself to the highest eminence. Newton r 
when at school, stood at the bottom of. the lowermost form 
but one. The boy above Newton having kicked him, the 
dunce showed his pluck by challenging him to a fight, and 
beat him. Then he set to work with a will, and determined 
also to vanquish his antagonist as a scholar, which he did,, 
rising to the head of his class. 

Many of our greatest divines have been anything but pre- 
cocious. Isaac Barrow, when a boy at the Charterhouse School,, 
was notorious chiefly for his strong temper, pugnacious habits, 
and proverbial idleness as a scholar; and he caused such grief 
to his parents, that his father used to say that if it pleased 
God to take from him any of his children, he hoped it might 
be Isaac, the least promising of them all. Adam Clarke, when 
a boy, was proclaimed by his father to be "a grievous dunce;" 
though he could roll large stones about. Dean Swift, one of 
the greatest writers of pare English, was "plucked" at Dub- 
lin University, and only obtained his recommendation to 
Oxford by special grace. The well-known Dr. Chalmers and 
Dr. Cook were boys together at the parish school of St An- 
drews; and they were found so stupid and mischievous, that 
the master, irritated beyond measure, dismissed them both as 
incorrigible dunces. 

The brilliant Sheridan showed so little capacity as a boy y 
that he was presented to a tutor. by his mother with the com- 
plimentary accompaniment, that he was an incorrigible dunce. 
AValter Scott was all but a dunce when a boy, always muclr 
readier for a "bicker," than apt at his lessons. At the Edin- 
burgh University, Professor Dalzell pronounced upon him the 
sentence that "Dunce he was, and dunce he would remain." 
Chatterton was returned on his mother's hands as a "fool, of 
whom nothing could be made." Burns was a dull boy, good 
only at athletic exercises. Goldsmith spoke of himself as a 
plant that flowered late. Alfieri left college no wiser than he 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 277 

entered it, and did not begin the studies by which he distin- 
guished himself, until he had run half over Europe. 

Robert Clive was a dunce, if not a reprobate, when a yoiith; 
but always full of energy, even in badness. His family, glad 
to get rid of him, shipped him off to Madras; and he lived to 
lay the foundations of the' British power in' India. Napoleon 
and Wellington were both dull boys, not distinguishing them- 
selves in any way at school. Of the former the Duchess 
d'Abrantes says, u he had good health, but was in other re- 
spects like other boys." A writer in the Edinburgh Review 
observes that the Duke's talents seem never to have developed 
themselves, until some active and practical Held for their dis- 
play was placed immediately before him. He was long des- 
cribed by his Spartan mother; who thought him a dunce, as 
only 'food for powder.' He gained no sort of distinction 
either at Ecdn, or at the French Military college of Angers. 
It is not improbable that a competitive examination, at this 
day, might have excluded him from the army. 

John Howard, the philanthropist, was another illustrious 
-dunce, learning next to nothing during the seven years that 
he attended school. Stephenson, as a youth, was distinguished 
-chiefly for his skill at wrestling, and attention to his work. 
The brilliant Sir Humphrey Davy was no smarter than other 
boys, and his teacher said he could never discover in him the 
faculties by which: he became so distinguished. Watt, too, 
was a dull scholar. As Dr. Arnold of Rugby said, the differ- 
ence in boys is more in energy than in talent. The dunce 
with persistence and application, will inevitably get ahead of 
the smart boy without these qualities. Slow but sure, gener- 
ally wins tile race. The position of boys at school is oftener 
reversed in after-life than otherwise, because everything which 
comes easy— be it money or learning— goes easy; while that 
which is only acquired through great difficulty, sticks, being 
held with a firmer grip. 

It is also a little remarkable how many of the world's great 
.men have been little men. "It would be a curious inquiry 
how far the distinctions attained by celebrated men have been 



278 THE IMPEEIAL HIGHWAY. 

owing to personal insignificance. It is remarked by grey- 
hound fanciers that a well- formed, com pact- shaped puppy 
never makes a fleet dog; and it is certain that many a loose- 
jointed, awkward, and clumsy man, as well as many a hump- 
backed and ugly-looking one, has found in his deformity, as 
Bacon long ago remarked, ' a perpetual spur, to rescue and 
deliver him from scorn.' History is full of examples of pyg- 
mies, who, tormented by a mortifying consciousness of their 
physical inferiority, have been provoked thereby to show that 
their lack of flesh and blood has been more than made up to 
them in brains. Many a Liliputian in body has proved him- 
self a Brobdinffnaodan in intellect." 

When Lord Nelson was passing over the quay at "iarmouth 
to take possession of the ship to which he had been appointed, 
the people exclamed, " Why make that little fellow a cap- 
tain?" The sneer of disparagement was but a "foregone 
conclusion " in his own mind, and he thought of it when he 
fought the battles of the Nile and Trafalgar. Had Bonaparte 
been six inches higher, says Hazlitt, it is doubtful whether he 
would have gone on that disastrous Russian expedition, or 
whether he would even have been First Consul or Emperor. 
It was the nickname of "Little Corporal " that probably first 
pricked the sides of his ambition, and stung him into that 
terrible activity which made all Europe tremble. 

Nearly all of the poets, and many of the greatest prose 
writers of ancient and modern times, have been little men. 
One of the great poets of Athens was so small that his friends 
fastened lead to his sandals to prevent his being toppled over 
or blown away. Aristotle, as we have already remarked, was 
a pigmy in person, though a giant in intellect. Of Pope, 
who was so small and crooked as to be compared to an inter- 
rogation point, Hazlitt asks, "Do we owe nothing to his de- 
formity? He doubtless soliloquized, 'Though my person be 
crooked, my verses shall be straight.' " It was ow^ng doubt- 
less, in some degree, to the fact that he could boast of but 
four feet and six inches in stature, that the phenomenon of 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 



279 



the eighteenth century, the Abbe Galiani, owed his vast and 
solid erudition. 

Keader, after studying all these good examples, pluck up 
courage and resolve to be like the best of them. 




2S0 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY 



CHAPTEE XYI. 

Is Success Always Desirable? 

Man should dare all things that he knows is right, 
And fear to do nothing save what is wrong. 

Phebe Cary. 

Howe'er it be, it seems to me 

'Tis only noble to be good ; 

Kind hearts are more than Coronets, 

And simple faith than Norman blood. 

Tennyson 

Happen what there can, I will be just; 
My fortune may forsake me, not my virtue. 

Ben Johnson. 

That is true glory and renown when God, 
Looking on earth, with approbation marks 
The just man. 

Milton. 

That life is long, which answers life's great end. 

Edward Young. 

) >$£ N answer to the question which forms the subject of 
this chapter, we say Yes and No. By which apparent 

ESjj. contradiction we mean, that one kind of success is de- 
sirable, and another kind is not. As every earthly good must 
be bought and paid for in some kind of currency, so it is pos- 
sible to buy success at too dear a price; that which we give 
for it being worth more than what we get in return. 

We shall not be so foolish as to say that there is no power 
or blessing in the possession of money, for there is both. And 
if money can be earned by honorable and legitimate effort, it 
should be, always. There is no special virtue in being poor 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 281 

particularly if our poverty is the result of a lack of enterprise 
and energy on our part; on the contrary, poverty under such 
circumstances is both a curse and a disgrace to any man. As 
an observing and forcible thinker remarks: "Whatever may 
be said of the dangers of riches, the dangers of poverty are 
tenfold greater. A condition in which one is exposed to con- 
tinual want, not only of the luxuries but of the veriest necessa- 
ries of life, as well as to disease and discouragement, is exceed- 
ingly unfavorable to the exercise of the higher functions of the 
mind and soul. The poor man is hourly beset by troops of 
temptations which the rich man never knows. Doubtless the 
highest virtues are sometimes found to flourish even in the 
cold clime and sterile soil of poverty. 

"But it is insufferable nonsense to speak of these qualities as 
indigenous or native to poverty, when we know they often 
flourish in spite of it. Poverty is a condition which no man 
should accept, unless it be forced upon him as an inexorable 
necessity or as the alternative of dishonor. No person has 
a right voluntarily to place himself in a position where he will 
be assailed hourly by the fiercest temptations, where he will 
be able to preserve his uprightness only by a strength little 
short of angelic, and where he will be liable at any. moment 
to become by sickness a burden to his friends. Every man, 
too, should make some provision for old age; for an old man 
in the poor-house, or begging alms, is a sorry sight, and sug- 
gests the suspicion, however ill-founded, that his life has been 
foolishly, if not viciously spent." 

It is money, or the want of it, which sets in motion and 
keeps whirling the thousand wheels of industry in all the dif- 
ferent departments and varied pursuits of life. The hum of 
machinery, the roar of railways, the busy marts of trade, and 
the myriad activities of traffic by land and sea, are all built 
up and sustained by the use of money. More than this, the 
need of money is the cohesive power which binds society to- 
gether, and makes order, good government, and civil virtue 
possible. If every man in a community had all the money he 
wanted, and a few dollars over, civil chaos and anarchy would 



2S2 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

surely follow. Labor is thus not only a blessing to the indi- 
vidual, but to society as well. 

Competition for the possession of money not only evokes 
intellectual skill, tact, ingenuity and enterprise, but at the 
same time it acts as a civil regulator, as a kind of social bal- 
ance-wheel, and as a moral preservative; keeping down the 
passions and lusts of men, and preventing riotous outbreaks of 
all kinds by providing full employment for every superfluous 
ounce of physical strength, and for every spare moment of 
time. If no one needed money, the world would soon come 
to a stand-still, so far as progress and civilization are concerned. 
Should there be no necessity for useful labor of any kind in 
order to provide for the physical, intellectual and social wants 
of life, mankind would have nothing to do but indulge their 
passions, gratify their appetites, and kill or conquer each other 
in warfare. In short, practical savagery or barbarism would 
result at once. 

Furthermore, the very labor a man has to perform, the self- 
denial he has to cultivate in acquiring money, are of them- 
selves an education. They compel him to put forth intelli- 
gence, skill, energy, vigilance, zeal, bring out his practical 
qualities, and gradually train his moral and intellectual pow- 
ers. Mental discipline may be got from money-getting as real 
as that which is obtained from mathematics; "the soul is 
trained by the ledger as much as by the calculus, and can get 
exercise in the account of sales as much as in the account of 
stars.'* The provident man must of necessity be a thoughtful 
man, living, as he does, not for the present, but for the future; 
and he must also practice self-denial, that virtue which is one 
of the chief elements in a strong and well-formed character. 

Again, in these times especially, money is a tremendous 
power. It generally gives to its possessor character, standing, 
and respectability. A pygmy in intellect, with money, be- 
comes a giant in influence. Now, as in Shakespere's time, 
"the learned head must often duck to the golden fool." Rank, 
talents, eloquence, learning, and moral worth, all challenge a 
certain degree of respect; but, unconnected with property, they 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 283 

have comparatively little influence in commanding the ser- 
vices of other men. The social standing is indicated by the 
bank-book. "The railway conductor accents his demand, the 
hotel clerk assigns rooms, the dry-goods merchant graduates 
the angle of his bows by it. Even the seat to which the sexton 
bows you in church is chosen with nice reference to your ex- 
chequer." 

Mark, we are not saying that this is right, or just, or true, 
or honorable, in spirit or practice, but we are now simply stat- 
ing acknowledged facts. With mone}' a man " can surround 
himself with richer means of enjoyment, secure a more varied 
and harmonious culture, and set in motion grander schemes of 
philanthropy in this last half of the ninteenth century, than 
at any previous period in the world's history. Science is mul- 
tiplying with amazing rapidity the comforts and luxuries of 
life and the means of self-culture, and money is the necroman- 
cer by which they are placed at our disposal. Money means a 
tight house, the warmest clothing, the most nutritious food, 
the best medical attendance, books, music, pictures; a good 
seat in the concert or lecture room, in the cars, and even in 
the church; the ability to rest, when weary in body or brain, 
and, above all, independence of thought." 

"And besides all, God has given to some men the power or 
the faculty of accumulation, showing that the amassing and 
the right use of wealth enter into and constitute a part of his 
grand and comprehensive design. We find in this divine be- 
stowment of gifts not only a Shakespere, a Raphael, a Beetho- 
ven, and a Morse, but also an Astor, a Peabody, a Lawrence, 
and a Cornell. And the latter class simply followed out the 
bent of their natures and their genius, as did the former. 
Colleges, hospitals, museums, libraries, and railroads could 
never have been built without these accumulations of capital. 
All this we freely acknowledge in favor of the value and use- 
fulness of money-getting as an element of progress and of 
civilization. But there is another side to this question, and to 
this we now turn. 

While money rightfully and honorably obtained is thus a 



284: THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

power, a comfort, and a means of doing great good in the 
world, it must never, never be forgotten, on the .other ..hand, 
that there are many things better, higher, dearer, more sacred, 
and more valuable even, than money or success or good for- 
tune. If success must be purchased at the sacrifice of honor 
honesty, virtue, reputation, or a good character, it were infi- 
nitely better to live and die without it, than to buy it at such 
a price. Better be accounted a failure in life, better be poor, 
inconvenient and pinching as poverty sometimes is, than to 
be rich, mean, soulless, miserly, and dishonorable. "While 
there is nothing great on earth but man, there is nothing great 
in men but ?riind" 

As another has said: "Money-getting is unhealthy when 
it impoverishes the mind, or dries up the sources of the spir- 
itual life; when it extinguishes the sense of beauty, and makes 
one indifferent to the wonders of nature and art; when it blunts 
the moral sense, and confuses the distinction between right 
and wrong, virtue and vice; when it stifles religious impulse, 
and blots all thought of God from the soul. Money -getting 
is unhealthy, again, when it engrosses all one's thought, leads 
a man to live meanly and coarsely, to do without books, pic- 
tures, music, travel,' for the sake of greater gains, and causes 
him to find his deepest and most soul-satisfying joy, not in 
the culture of his heart or mind, not in doing good to himself 
or others, but in the adding of eagle to eagle, in the knowl- 
edge that the money in his chest is piled up higher and higher 
every year, that his account at the bank is constantly growing, 
that he is adding bonds to bonds, mortgages to mortgages, 
stocks to stocks." The most pitiable wretch on earth is he 
who has sold himself, body and soul, to the Devil, for the sake 
of gain, or for one brief hour of what is called success .and 
glory. 

More than this, Isaac Walton tells us that there are as 
many troubles on the other side of riches as on this, and that 
the cares which are the keys of riches hang heavily at the 
rich man's girdle. How many men, on reaching the pinna- 
cle of wealth, find, as they look down upon their money-bags, 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 285- 

that the j have only purchased one set of enjoyments by the 
loss of another equally desirable! "Do you remember, 
Bridget,'' writes Charles Lamb, with a tender retrospect to 
his poverty, " when you and I laughed at the play from the 
shilling gallery? There are no good plays to laugh at now 
from the boxes." Many a Sir Epicure Mammon, as he sits 
down with jaded appetite to his lobster salad and champagne, 
thinks with keen regret of the simple repast which titillated 
his palate when he was poor. The great railway king, Hud- 
son, and his wife, feasting with dukes and duchesses in their 
big house at Albert Gate, looked back with many a sigh to 
the days when they ate sausages for supper in the little par- 
lor behind their paltry shop in the city of York. 

Nothing seems easier to a poor person than to be able to 
get pleasure and ease and enjoyment out of the possession of 
money. "Oh!" says the novice, "if I could only buy all 
that I wanted, how happy I should be." But does not every 
one know that the very power to possess a thing, often creates 
indifference, if not positive dislike, for it? More than two- 
thirds of the enjoyment of life comes from anticipation, and 
not from possession. If we know we cannot have what we 
want, imagination, like the evil genius that it sometimes is,, 
immediately commences to invest the object desired with a 
halo of splendor; but when after much effort, we at length reach 
the prize, we usually discover that the brilliancy and desira- 
bility have, to: a great degree vanished from sight, if not from 
the object itself. 

This truth is well illustrated in the anecdote told some years 
ago of two men who were conversing about John Jacob Astor's 
property. Some one was asked if he would be willing to take 
care .of all the millionaire's property — ten or fifteen millions of 
dollars — merely for his board and clothing. "No!" was the 
indignant answer--; "do you take me for a fool?" "Well," re- 
joins the other, "that is all Mr. Astor himself gets for taking- 
care of it; he's found, and that's all. The houses, the ware- 
houses, the ships, the farms,: which he counts by the hundred, 
and. is often obliged to take care of, are for the accommodation 



28 6 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

of others." "But then he has the income, the rents of thj£ 
large property, five or six hundred thousand dollars per annum." 
"Yes, but he can do nothing with his income but build more 
houses and warehouses and ships, or loan money on mortgages 
for the convenience of others. He's found, and you can make 
nothing else out of it." 

The same truth is again illustrated in the life of Nathan 
Myers Rothschild, the great Jew banker, who for so many 
years opened and closed the purse of the world to Kings and 
Emperors as he listed; but who, notwithstanding his vast 
wealth, was one of the most withered and miserable men that 
ever lived. To part with a shilling in the way of charity cut 
him to the heart, and he was always contriving to find out the 
smallest possible pittance on which a clerk's soul could be 
kept in his body. With most sorrowful earnestness he ex- 
claimed to one congratulating him on the gorgeous magnifi- 
cence of his palatial mansion, and thence inferring that he was 
happy: "Happy! me happy!" 

Those who think Rothschild's experience singular may be 
still further enlightened by that of Stephen Girard. When 
surrounded by riches, and supposed to be taking supreme de- 
light in the accumulation of wealth, he thus wrote to a friend: 
"As to myself, I live like a galley-slave, constantly occupied, 
and often passing the night without sleeping. I am wrapped 
up in a labyrinth of affairs, and worn out with cares. I do not 
value a fortune. The love of labor is my highest motive. 
When I rise in the morning, my only effort is to labor so hard 
during the day that, when night comes, I may be enabled to 
sleep soundly." 

Even the most specious and plausible reason for seeking 
riches, namely, to be above the necessity of a rigid economy, or 
the pressure of debt, Archbishop Whately shows to be unsound 
and deceptive. It is worth remarking, he observes, as a curi- 
ous circumstance, and the reverse of what many would expect 
that the expenses called for by a real or imagined necessity of 
those who have large incomes, are greater than those of per- 
sons with slenderer means; and that, consequently, a larger 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 287 

proportion of what are called the rich are in embarrassed cir- 
cumstances, than of the poor. This is often overlooked. Take 
a number of persons of equal amount of income, divided into 
classes from $500 per annum up to $500,000 per annum, and 
you will find the percentage of those who are under pecuniary 
difficulties continually augmenting as you go upwards. And 
when you come to sovereign States, whose revenue is reckoned 
by millions, you will hardly find owe that is not deeply involved 
in debt; so that it would appear, the larger the income, the 
harder it is to live within it. In other words, the tendency to 
spend increases in a greater ratio than the wealth; and hence 
competence has been wittily defined as three hundred a year 
more than you possess. 

John Foster quotes a case to show what simple determina- 
tion will do in helping a man to be successful in business, and 
at the same time to show how little power money has to re- 
form character. He says: U A young man who ran through 
his patrimony, spending it in profligacy, was at length reduced 
to utter want and despair. He rushed out of his house intend- 
ing to put an end to his life, but stopped on arriving at an 
eminence overlooking what were once his estates. He sat 
down, ruminated for a time, and rose with the determination 
that he would recover them. He returned to the streets, saw 
a load of coals which had been shot out of a cart on the 
pavement before a house, offered to carry them in, and was 
employed. He thus earned a few pence, requested some meat 
and drink as a gratuity, which was given him, and the pennies 
were laid by. Pursuing this menial labor, he earned and saved 
more pennies; accumulated sufficient to enable him to purchase 
some cattle, the value of which he understood, and these he 
sold to advantage. He now pursued money with a step as 
steady as time, and an appetite as keen as death; advancing 
by degrees into larger and larger transactions, until at length 
he became rich. The result was, that he more than recovered 
his possessions, and died an inveterate miser. When he was 
buried, mere earth went to earth. With a nobler spirit, the 
same determination might have enabled such a man to be a 



28S THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

benefactor to others as well as to himself. But the life and 
its end in this case were alike sordid." 

Hence it has been truly observed that it is one of the defects 
of business too exclusively followed, that it insensibly tends to 
a mechanism of character. The business man gets into a rut, 
and often does not look beyond it. If he lives for himself only, 
he becomes apt to regard other human beings only in so far as 
they minister to his ends. Take a leaf from the ledger of such 
men, and you have their life. It is against the growth of this 
habit of inordinate saving, that a man needs most carefully to 
guard himself ; else, what in youth was simple economy, may 
in old age grow into avarice. 

He who recognizes no higher logic than that of the shilling, 
may become a very rich man, and yet remain all the while an 
exceedingly poor creature. For riches are no proof whatever 
of moral worth; and their glitter often serves only to draw at- 
tention to the w r orthlessness of their possessor, as the glow- 
worm's light reveals the grub. Let a man be what he will, 
it is the mind and heart that make a man poor or rich, miser- 
able or happy; for these are always stronger than fortune. 
Not only industry, honesty, frugality, perseverance amid bard- 
ships and ever-baffling discouragements, but much more mirac- 
ulous attributes, as meek contentment, severe self-sacrifice, 
tender affections, unwavering trust in Providence, all are 
found blooming in the hearts of the poorest poor, — r even in the 
sunless regions of absolute destitution, where honesty might 
be expected to wear an everlasting scowl of churlishness, and 
a bitter disbelief in the love of God to accompany obedience to 
the laws of man. ; 

And more than this, it is well to remember that the great- 
est things which have been done for the world have not been 
accomplished by rich men, but by men generally qf small pe- 
cuniary means. Christianity was propagated over Half the 
world by men of the poorest class; and, the greatest thinkers, 
discoverers, inventors, and artists, have been, men of mod- 
erate wealth, many of them little raised above, the condition 
of manual laborers in point of worldly circumstances. And 



SUCCESS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 289 

it will always be so. The youth who inherits wealth is apt to 
have life made too easy for him, and he soon grows sated with 
it because he has nothing left to desire. Having no special 
object to struggle for, he finds time hang heavy on his hands; 
he remains morally and spiritually asleep; and his position in 
society is often no higher than that of a polypus over which 
the tide floats. 

The highest object of life we take to be, to form a manly 
character, and to work out the best development possible, of 
body and spirit, — of mind, conscience, heart, and soul. This 
is the end ; all else ought to be regarded but as the means. 
Accordingly, that is not the most successful life in which a 
man gets the most pleasure, the most money, the most power 
of place, honor or fame; bat that in which a man gets the 
most manhood, and performs the greatest amount of useful 
work and of human duty. Money is power after its sort, it is 
true: but intelligence, public spirit, and moral virtue, are pow- 
ers, too, and far nobler ones. 




PAET II. 

Happiness in Social and Family Life. 



Happiness is our being's end and aim ! 

Alexander Pope. 



There is a gentle element, and man 
May breathe it with a calm, unruffled soul, 
And drink its living waters till his heart 
Is pure ; — and this is human happiness. 

N. P. Willis. 



A man's happiness and success in life will depend not so much upon 
what he has, or upon what position he occupies, as upon what he is, and the 
heart he carries into his position. 

Prof. S. J. Wilson. 



Happiness is the congruity between a creature's nature and its circum- 
stances. 

Bishop Butler. 
291 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 293 




CHAPTER I. 

The Nature of Happiness. 

Over all men hangs a doubtful fate, 

One gains by what another is bereft; 

The frugal deities have only left 

A common bank of happiness below, 

Maintained, like nature, by an ebb and flow. 

Sir Robert Howard. 

LTHOUGH doubted by many, there is such a thing 
as human happiness on earth, at least in a compara- 
tive or relative sense. But human happiness is 
neither divine nor perfect in extent or quality, and we. must 
not expect to find it such; if we do, we shall most surely be 
disappointed in our search for it, as well as in our experience of 
it, when found. " That man never is, but always to be, blest," 
expresses a great and undeniable truth, which truth, put into 
other language, means that the anticipation of enjoyment is 
nearly always superior to any actual possession. Hope is an 
enchantress " who ever smiles and waves her golden hair," 
while Fancy and Imagination are a couple of gay, but cruel 
deceivers that are never idle. Concerning the ministry of the 
former power in life, the poet Cowlqy says: 

Of all the ills that men endure, 

Hope is the only universal cure. 

The captive's freedom, and the sick man's health, 

The lover's victory, and the beggar's wealth. 

And Campbell adds: 

Auspicious hope! in thy sweet garden grow 
"Wreaths for each toil, a charm for every woe ; 
Won by their sweets, in nature's languid hour, 
The way-worn pilgrim seeks thy summer bower ; 



294 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

And there as wild bee murmurs on the wing, 

What peaceful dreams thy handmaid spirits bring ; 

What viewless forms the ^Eolian organ play, 

And sweep the furrowed lines of anxious thought away. 

While Young declares that 

Hope of all passions most befriends us here. 
Joy has her tears, and transport has her death ; 
But hope, a cordial, innocent yet strong, 
Man's heart at once inspirits and serenes ! 

Equally powerful and equally direct is the influence of fancy 
and imagination on the heart and life. Says Mrs. Frances S. 
Osgood, an early American poetess: 

Fancy is a fairy that can hear 
Ever the melody of nature's voice, 
And see all lovely visions that she will. 

While Rogers sings : 

Do what he will, man cannot realize 
Half he conceives — the glorious vision flies ; 
Go where he may, he cannot hope to find 
The truth, the beauty pictured in his mind. 

And Byron adds, with a touch of bitterness: 

Where are the forms the sculptor's soul hath seized ? 

In him alone. Can nature show so fair ? 

Where are the charms and virtues which we dare 

Conceive in boyhood and pursue as men ? 

Alas ! of its own beauty is the mind 

Diseased. 

Therefore, we repeat, that on account of the active ministry 
of these two cunning mental wizards, these gay, yet deceiv- 
ing faculties of the mind, these two powerful sirens of life, 
the effect of whose workings in human thought we have just 
outlined in these extracts of song, we must never expect hu- 
man happiness to be like that which has been pictured to us 
as man's blissful possession in the upper world of shadeless 
light and unbroken joy; still, we repeat again, there is such a 
thing as human happiness in the comparative or earthly sense 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 295 

of the word, and that happiness is attainable by a certain 
course of conduct, and the possession of certain virtues, which 
it will be the object of Part II of this volume to disclose. 

Bishop Butler was right in defining happiness to be a "state 
of congruity (or suitableness and harmony) between a man's 
nature and his circumstances." This definition is very broad, 
deep and comprehensive, and needs a little unfolding to bring 
out its truthfulness and application. First, all men are sur- 
rounded and environed in this life by a network of events, 
persons, and things, the action of which upon each other and 
their combined relation to man himself, produces what we call, 
circumstances. These hem a man in on every side, and he 
can no more escape their influence than a ship sailing across 
the ocean can escape the action of wind and tide. These cir- 
cumstances have a great deal to do with a man's happiness. 
When they are unpleasant, restricting, cramping, or torturing, 
it will be very difficult, if not impossible, for human nature 
to rise superior to their power. 

Some have gone so far as to assert that man is but the sport 
of circumstances, like a floating slab on a tossing, billowy 
sea; that he is dashed about, hither and thither, by events 
which he has no power to control. Now, if this were literally 
true, it would be idle to talk about happiness, one way or the 
other, for it, too, like the events which surround us, would be 
beyond human control. But, fortunately, this is not the case. 
Circumstances are partly under as well as above the power of 
human will. Thus a man can make himself rich or poor, 
honored or disgraced, strong or sickly, just as he obeys or dis 
regards certain laws of life. If he gives right up to the world 
and exercises no will-power of his own, if he allows himself to 
lie on the edge of life's sea like a helpless and dismantled 
wreck, and suffers himself to be moved about by every wave 
of influence which will be sure to break over him, he will be 
indeed the sport of circumstances, and will only know what 
happiness is during those brief, uncertain intervals when the 
'sea is calm and the sky is blue," and the winds are at rest. 
But if he does this and suffers on account of it, he has only 



296 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

himself to blame. The All-wise and benevolent Creator never 
designed him for any such sphere or position. On the con- 
trary, God has given to every man the power of self-denial, 
the power of resistance to evil, and the power of choice, with 
the additional power of carrying out aims and choices into 
action. 
• In saying this, however, we do not limit or circumscribe the 
power of God to move us about and change our circumstances 
as seems to him good, nor do we ignore the power of the 
world to influence and change the character of human life. 
On the contrary, we acknowledge both of these, and to show 
how one can make circumstances contribute to his success and 
consequent happiness in life, we have written Part I. of thfS 
volume. That whole treatise should be considered as an ac- 
knowledgment of the power of externals to make one happy 
or miserable. For if one's success in life, if the nature and 
quality of his surroundings had no influence over the amount 
of his happiness, why should one strive to be wealthy, or dis- 
tinguished? The very fact that circumstances do tend power- 
fully in the direction of human weal or woe, added to the 
other fact that man is partly responsible for the nature of his 
circumstances, has been the very reason which has prompted 
us to give the reader such careful directions and rules for the 
betterment and exaltation of his condition in life. 

We say, then, that happiness consists in part in being for- 
tunate or successful in business life; in acquiring by honorable 
effort and legitimate methods a money competence. Good 
houses to live in, a plenty of good food and clothing, books 
pictures, fine horses and carriages, money to entertain with, or 
to travel with, are not at all to be despised by one who seeks 
to be happy. All these have their influence on a man's spirits 
and temper, and in providing him with suitable opportunities 
to enjoy what are called the "good things of this life." 

But money is not all, nor even the main ingredient in the 
cup of happiness. It is one element, we admit, but only 
one; for there are, in proportion, as many unhappy rich peo- 
ple in the world, as poor ones — if not more. This, however, 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 297 

is not to be charged against riches so much as to those who, 
possessing riches, do not know how to use them properly. 
Like almost everything else in the world, money can be made 
to contribute to human happiness or misery with equal facil- 
ity, according to the nature and disposition of him who han- 
dles it. We need many things which money will buy, and 
many more which money cannot buy. And what these things 
are we shall in this part of our work proceed to enumerate. 

Let us suppose, then, that a young man has chosen his oc- 
cupation in life, has settled down to his work manfully, and 
with a determination to persevere and be industrious, has 
already begun to prosper, and, in fact, is in a fair way of be- 
coming rich in the course of time. What other things are 
necessary, besides those already mentioned and dwelt upon, to 
make him as happy as he w T ill be successful? He is supposed 
to be already on the imperial highway of fortune, but how 
shall he blend fortune with happiness? Of course, he does not 
want to make a pack-horse of himself, and siixiply lug around 
a lot of business burdens all the time; nor does he want to 
groan and sweat continually under a great load of cares and 
labors. There are many other interests to look after which are 
equally as important as mercantile or manufacturing interests? 
and he must not neglect these, any more than material values. 

Referring to Bishop Butler's definition of happiness again, 
we discover that he mentions three elements as entering into 
it: first, the power of circumstances, which we have just con- 
sidered; secondly, a certain kind or quality of nature, which is 
yet to be considered; and thirdly, a state of congruity, harmony, 
or agreement, existing between these two, or between the in- 
ward and outward worlds. There is a world within man, as 
well as a world without; a world of thought, feeling, senti- 
ment, desire, hope or fear, hatred or love; and the stream of 
human happiness always takes its rise in nature — from the 
hillsides of thought and feeling or from the valleys of contem- 
plation and love — rather than from any state or condition of 
things without. To attempt to create a permanent state of 
happiness by the possession and manipulation of external 



298 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

things, and then attempt to pour this, like the contents of a 
cup, into the heart, would be very much like attempting to re- 
verse the course of the Mississippi. The internal world is 
higher in nature and position than the external, and stands in 
closer connection with the skies above, where all true happi- 
ness finds its seat and home. 

Accordingly, as water always runs down the mountain side, 
instead of up, so this river of happiness must always start 
from the mental or moral heights of the mind and heart, and 
then find its way out and down into the lower external re- 
gions where business is carried on, and where the sounds of 
the anvil and hammer are heard. As thought precedes ex- 
ternal activity, so happiness must be an internal possession 
before it can be a permanent external realization. Burns has 
truly said that — 

'Tis not in books, 'tis not in lear, 

To make us truly blest, 

If happiness has not her seat 

And center in the breast. 

We may be wise, or rich, or great, 

But never can be blest. 

And Pope corroborates the same view when he says, — 

Condition, circumstance, is not the thing; 
Bliss is the same in subject or in king. 

And Thomson, too, joins us in sentiment in the lines: — 

Not all good things, in one rich lot combined, 
Can make the happy man without the mind ; 
Whence every virtue flows, in rival strife, 
And all the moral harmony of life. 

Ah, this thought of good Bishop Butler is indeed a just 
one, and his idea of happiness as harmony between a man's 
nature and his circumstances is both profound and true. 
Who does not know what it is to be out of gear sometimes 
with everybody and everything, himself included? Who does 
not know very well there is no such thing as happiness to be 
enjoyed in such a frame of mind? Now by supposing such a 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 299 

state to become chronic and fixed within the mind, we shall 
have an internal condition the exact opposite of what the good 
Bishop meant by his harmony or congruity of nature and cir- 
cumstances. 

In order, then, to create a permanently happy state, speak- 
ing on general principles, a man must first do his best to 
surround himself with a set of circumstances which shall be 
agreeable and pleasant, and then try and cultivate those qual- 
ities of mind and heart which shall not only make him peace- 
ful and joyful in himself, but adapted to, and contented with, 
his surroundings. There are multitudes of persons between 
whose natures and whose environments there is perpetual war^ 
They want one thing, and circumstances compel them to take 
up with another, vastly inferior or entirely different; and rather 
than submit to that which they do not like or choose, they 
keep up a continual fight which makes continual discord. Of 
course, there is no happiness for such, unless they are strong 
enough to change the conditions of their life, make them more 
consonant with their feelings, or unless they cultivate those 
essential qualities of heart and habits of thinking which will 
bring them into a state of harmony with their surroundings. 
In some cases, and especially with the aged, either of these 
alternatives are practically impossible, and consequently they 
must look for their happiness in that "brighter sphere, where 
all will be made plain that so puzzles, us here." 

But with young people, who have the greater part of life 
yet before them, there is no need of settling down into a state 
of hopeless misery or permanent unhappiness, when an op- 
posite state can be enjoyed just as easily. Hence it makes all 
the difference between happiness and misery, in a majority of 
cases, whether people start out in life with right or wrong 
ideas upon the nature of the object to be gained. To be fore- 
warned, is usually to be forearmed against possible disaster, 
and hence we put this book into your hands, reader, as a sort 
of general guide to fortune, happiness, and heaven. There are 
thousands upon thousands who are seeking happiness by 
wrong methods, and their mistakes are not only costly and 



300 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

dangerous to themselves, but they exert a reactionary influence 
upon others, as bad; consequently, he who may be able by 
wise counsel, sound reasoning, and apposite illustration, to 
increase the amount of happiness in any single mind, may be 
justly set down as a true benefactor of his kind. For real hap- 
piness is to be won at last, if ever won at all, through wise and 
deliberate choices and persistent courses of conduct, rather 
than by any lucky experiment or accidental discovery. 




HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 301 



CHAPTER II. 

Health and Happiness. 

We are not ourselves 
When nature, being oppressed, commands the mind 
To suffer with the body. 

Shakespere. 

All the good that individuals find, 
Or God or nature meant to mere mankind, 
Lie in three words ; health, peace and competence. 

Pope. 

To the strong hand and strong head, the capacious lungs and vigorous 
frame, fall, and will always fall, the heavy burdens ; and where the heavy 
burdens fall, the great prizes fall, too. Laws op Life. 




IHE first element of happiness is good health, or a sound 
mind in a sound body. We put this forward first, be- 
' cause it belongs first. Man is an animal, as well as an 
immortal, and as long as he stays on earth he cannot be indiffer- 
ent to the condition of his animal nature and expect either to 
be successful or happy. To be sick, weak, feeble, emaciated, 
run down, dyspeptic, or nervously exhausted, is to be good 
for nothing, except to be miserable. 

Time was when the body was looked upon as a sort of drag 
upon the mind, and was treated as something which a man had 
to carry around with him, like a burden. The old religious 
ascetics, who lived in caves and in mountains and deserts, 
used to torture and crucify their bodies under the erroneous 
impression that they were thereby making themselves more 
spiritually-minded and more acceptable to God. Even as good 
a man as Pascal once said that " disease was the natural state 
of Christians." A more blasphemous utterance never was 



302 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

written or spoken ; still, that was the common idea among 
certain classes and orders of the Romish church at that time, 
and is to this day. Barton's idea, however, comes much 
nearer the truth when he says, "The body is the domicil or 
home of the mind ; and, as a torch gives a better light, a 
sweeter smell, according to the matter it is made of^so doth 
our soul perform all her actions better or worse, as her organs 
are disposed ; or, as wine savors of the cask wherein it is kept, 
the soul receives a tincture from the body, through which it 
works." Rev. Dr. J. W. Alexander used to say when asked 
whether he enjoyed religion, " I think I do, except when the 
wind is in the East." 

In like manner, it used to be thought proper to wholly neg- 
lect the care and culture of the body in systems of education. 
The model student was often pale, puny, lean and lank, con- 
sumptive or dyspeptic, desiring to be all brain and soul. But 
this idea is now pretty well exploded, and physical culture 
receives its due share of attention at almost all colleges and 
other institutions for intellectual training. It has been well 
said that to cultivate a man's physical powers exclusively, is 
to make of him an athlete or a savage ; to consider the moral 
only, is to make a man an enthusiast, a fanatic, or a mono- 
maniac ; the intellectual only, and you have a diseased, ineffi- 
cient theorist. Elihu Burritt found hard work necessary to 
enable him to study with effect; and more than once he gave 
up school-keeping and study, and taking to his leather apron 
again, went back to his blacksmith's forge and anvil, for his 
health of body and mind's sake. 

Milton described himself as up and stirring early in the 
morning, — " in winter, often ere the sound of any bell wakes 
man to labor or devotion ; in summer, as oft with the bird that 
first rouses, or not much tardier, to read good authors, or to 
cause them to be read till the attention be ready, or memory 
have its full fraught; then, with clear and generous labor, 
preserving the body's health and hardiness, to render light- 
some, clear, and not lumpish obedience to the mind for the 
cause of religion, and our country's liberty." In his "Trac- 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 303 

tate on Education " he recommends the physical exercise of 
fencing to young men, as calculated to " keep them healthy, 
nimble, strong, and well in breath, and also as the likeliest 
means to make them grow large and tall, and inspire them 
with a gallant and fearless courage," and he further urges 
that they should "be practiced in all the locks and grips of 
wrestling, wherein Englishmen were wont to excel." 

The marvelous and juvenile vitality of Lord Palmerston 
was long a matter of surprise. But it was owing to his pride 
and pleasure as a youth, to be the best rower, juniper, and 
runner ; to be first in the sports of the field as he was first in 
the senate ; and his horse and gun were invariably resorted to 
in his hours of relaxation. Sir Walter Scott, when attending 
the University at Edinburgh, though he went by the name of 
" The Great Blockhead," was, notwithstanding his lameness, 
a remarkably healthy youth, and could spear a salmon with 
the best fisher on the Tweed, or ride a wild horse with any 
hunter in Yarrow. When devoting himself in after life to lit- 
erary pursuits, Sir Walter never lost his taste for field-sports; 
but while writing "Waverly" in the morning, he would 
in the afternoon course hares. Professor Wilson was a very 
athlete, as great at throwing the hammer as in his flights of 
eloquence and poetry ; and Burns, when a youth, was remark- 
able chiefly for his leaping, putting, and wrestling. Some of 
the greatest divines were distinguished in their youth for 
their physical energies. Isaac Barrow, when at the Charter- 
house School, was notorious for his pugilistic encounters, 
in which he got many a bloody nose ; Andrew Fuller, 
when working as a farmer's lad at Soham, was chiefly famous 
for his skill in boxing ; and Adam Clarke, when a boy, was 
only remarkable for the strength displayed by him in " rolling 
large stones about ;" the secret, possibly, of some of the power 
which he subsequently displayed in rolling forth large thoughts 
in his manhood. 

In fact, success and happiness in life depend much more 
upon physical health than is generally imagined. Hodson, of 
Hodson's Horse, writing home to a friend in England, said, 



304 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

"I believe, if I get on well in India, it will be owing, physi- 
cally speaking, to a sound digestion." The capacity for con- 
tinuous working in any calling must necessarily mainly 
depend upon this; and hence the necessity for attending to 
health, even as a means of intellectual labor itself. It is in no 
slight degree to the boating and cricketing sports, still culti- 
vated at the best public schools and universities of England, 
that they produce so many specimens of healthy, manly and 
vigorous men, of the true liodson stamp. It is said that the 
Duke of Wellington, when once looking at the boys engaged 
in their sports in the play-ground at Eton, where he had spent 
his own juvenile days, made the pregnant remark, " It was 
there that the battle of Waterloo was won. 5 ' 

The body has some rights of its own, although it be a 
slave to the nobler faculties of our being, and when this slave 
is abused for any length of time, he will invariably rise up 
against, and smite his master. The man who sleeps the 
soundest and digests his dinner with the least difficulty, will, 
other things beiiig equal, win the most prizes in life and b3 
the most good-natured and happy about it. A popular lec- 
turer has lately said that " it is now generally conceded that 
there is an organization which we call the nervous system in 
the human body, to which belong the functions of emotion, 
intelligence, and sensation, and that this is connected inti- 
mately with the whole circulation of the blood, with the con- 
dition of the blood as affected by the liver, and by aeration in 
the lungs; that the manufacture of the blood is dependent 
upon the stomach; so a man is what he is not in one part 
or another, hut all over; one part is intimately connected 
with the other, from the animal stomach to the throbbing 
brain ; and when a man thinks he thinks the whole trunk 
through. 

" Man's power comes from the generating forces that are in 
him, namely, the digestion of nutritious food into vitalized 
blood, made fine by oxygenation ; an organization by which 
that blood has free course to flow and be glorified; a neck that 
will allow the blood to run up and down easily; a brain prop- 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 305 

erly organized and balanced; the whole-system so compounded 
as to have susceptibilities and recuperative force; immense 
energy to generate resources and facility to give them out; — 
all these elements go to determine what a man's working 
power is." Intellect in a weak body is "like gold in a spent 
swimmer's pocket," or like a granary to which there is no 
key. 

Referring to the ancients again, it is a singular fact that 
before the dawn of the Christian era, the philosophers and 
orators, warriors and great men of Greece and Rome devoted 
a great deal of attention to the culture and maintenance of 
physical vigor. It is told of Cicero that he became at one 
time the victim of that train of maladies expressed by the 
word "dyspepsia," — maladies which pursue the indolent and 
the overworked man as the shark follows in the wake of the 
plague-ship. The orator hastened, not to, the physicians 
which might have hastened his death, but to Greece; flung 
himself into the gymnasium; submitted to its regimen for 
two entire years; and returned to the struggles of the forum 
as vigorous as the peasants that tilled his farm. Who doubts 
that by this means, his periods were rounded out to a more 
majestic cadence, and his crushing arguments clinched with a 
tighter grasp? Had he remained a dyspeptic, he might have 
written beautiful essays on old age and friendship, but he 
never would have pulverized Catiline, or blasted Antony with 
his lightnings.; •> 

So the intellectual power of those giants of antiquity, Aris- 
totle and Plato, was owing in a large degree to that harmoni-. 
ous education in which the body shared as well as the mind. 
That the one ruled the world of thought down to the time of 
Bacon, and that the other is stimulating and quickening the 
mind of the nineteenth century, are owing in part to the fact 
that they were not only great geniuses, but, as one has well 
said, geniuses most happily set, and that no dyspepsia broke 
the harmony of their thought, no neuralgia twinged the sys- 
tem with agony, and no philosopher's ail infected the throat 
w T ith bad blood or an ulcerated mucous membrane. 
20 



306 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

Coming back to our own time, we find that nature presented 
our "Websters, Clays, and Calhouns, not only with extraordi- 
nary minds, but — what has quite as much to do with the mat- 
ter — with wonderful bodies. Above all, our Grants, Shermans, 
and Sheridans, what would they be without nerves of whip- 
cord and frames of iron? The tortures of hereditary disease, 
united with the pangs of fever, wrung from Napoleon in one 
of the most critical days of his history, the exclamation that 
the first requisite of good generalship is good health. The 
efficiency of the common soldier, too, he knew depended, first 
of all, upon his being in perfect health and splendid condition; 
and hence he tried to bring up all his troops to the condition 
of pugilists when they fight for the championship. This was 
the secret of their prodigious efforts, their endurance of fa- 
tigues that would have killed common men. 

Horace Mann, in a letter of advice to a law-student, justly 
remarks that a spendthrift of health is one of the most repre- 
hensible of spendthrifts. "I am certain," continues he, "I 
could have performed twice the labor, both better and with 
greater ease to myself, had I known as much of the laws of 
health and life at twenty-one as I do now. In college I was 
taught all about the motions of the planets, as carefully as 
though they would have been in danger of getting off the 
track if I had not known how to trace their orbits; but about 
my own organization, and the conditions indispensable to the 
healthful functions of my own body, I was left in profound 
ignorance. Nothing could be more preposterous. I ought to 
have begun at home, and taken the stars when it should come 
their turn. The consequence was, I broke down at the begin- 
ning of my second college year, and have never had a well 
day since. Whatever labor I have since been able to do, I 
have done it all on credit instead of capital, — a most ruinous 
way, either in regard to health or money. For the last twenty- 
five years, so far as it regards health, I have been put, from 
day to day, on my good behavior; and during the whole of 
this period, as an Hibernian would say, if I had lived as other 
folks do for a month, I should have died in a fortnight." 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 307 

Thus good health is seen to be intimately connected with 
the enjoyment of religion, the enjoyment of study and work, 
and the enjoyment of life generally. There are few keener 
miseries than to look out upon the world, bustling with activ- 
ity and palpitating with power, seeing others busy and happy, 
knowing there are prizes to be won and joys to be experienced 
in winning them, and yet to hold back from entering the arena 
and mingling in the fray, on account of a diseased and en- 
feebled body, a bedraggled and fettered mind, and an exhausted 
nervous system. 

It hardly comes within our province to treat of the general 
laws of health in this connection, and more than this it would 
be exceedingly difficult to lay down any set of rules which 
would admit of anything like universal application. It is an 
old adage, but a true one, that "what is one man's meat, is 
another's poison." All men and women must study their 
own natures and constitutions, must now and then seek good 
medical advice, and then regulate themselves and their habits 
accordingly. In all cases, however, a plenty of exercise is 
essential to health, and so is an abundance of good nourishing 
food. A plenty of sweet refreshing sleep is also absolutely 
indispensable. 

Sir Philip Sydney has said that " the common ingredients 
of health and long life are great temperance, the open air, 
moderate labor and little care;" but this is hardly an ex- 
haustive schedule, although the four things which he mentions 
are all of them important.. But leaving special rules aside, 
we wish to urge on general principles the duty of preserving 
health as one of the elements of happiness. To continue in 
any practice or habit of eating, drinking, or sporting, after it 
has been once clearly ascertained that such practice is hurtful 
or injurious to health, is to commit a most flagrant crime 
against self and against society. Beware, then, of doing any- 
thing which tends to destroy the vigor of health. Shun the 
approach of disease as you would the presence of a hideous 
monster. Your good health is a priceless jewel — don't throw 
it away. 



308 • THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

Take special care of your nervous system, for the nerves 
are the connecting links between body and spirit and also 
the inlets of all superior influences and joys. Shattered or 
exhausted nerve-power is the worst calamity that can pos- 
sibly befall one. Says Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell upon this 
point: "There. is a certain amount of nerve force in every in_ 
dividual which is essential to life; this force is generated in the 
three centres, the brain, the spinal cord, the ganglia, just as the 
blood is generated by the stomach and its connected apparatus,, 
and the lungs; the brain is the nervous centre for the mind, 
the spinal marrow is the centre for the muscles, and the ganglia 
form the nervous centre for the organs. 

"Now each centre has thus its appropriate objects to which 
its nervous force must be distributed, but if the parts which 
should be supplied are not called into exercise, there will be 
an excess of nervous force in other parts, the healthy balance 
will be lost, and a diseased nervous system will be the conse- 
quence. We have seen the very large portion of the nervous 
system which is appropriated to the muscles—the great num- 
ber of nerves which are distributed all over the body, from the 
whole length of the spinal cord — these nerves are nerves of 
motion, and nerves of sensation ; if the muscles remain inact- 
ive the motor nerves of course remain so too; here then the 
first balance is destroyed, the sensitive life attains an undue 
power over the active motor life, the body becomes the prey 
of morbid sensation, of an unnatural vivacity of impressions, 
which mark the irritability of this unbalanced exercise of the 
sensitive nerves. 

"Again, the inactivity of the muscular system not calling 
into exercise the whole nervous force of the spinal marrow, 
the mind, which is always active, will call the brain into 
undue activity, and if stimulants are applied to the mind, this 
will only : increase the evil and produce premature mental de- 
velopment. Nor is this all. The sympathetic nervous system, 
under whose influence the organs of the body grow and live ? 
will share in this undue activity imparted to the other centres 
by the inaction of the muscular system. The generative or- 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 309 

gans, also, which are governed bj the ganglia and intimately 
connected with the mind, will suffer from the lost balance o^ 
the nervous system, and while they should be the last and 
slowest growth of the body, will' suffer with the mind a prema- 
ture development. 

"Here, then, are three great evils arising from the loss of nerv- 
ous balance produced by the inactivity of the muscles, namely: 
an undue exaltation of the sensitive life, the premature de- 
velopment of the mind, and of the generative organs." And 
each and all of these three evils can be averted in men and 
women, it seems, by regular exercise or regular work. In 
fact, these evils are found more commonly among the idle, the 
indolent, and the dissipated, than among the sober and indus- 
trious workers of the world. 

Again Doctor Blackwell remarks upon the same subject: 
"This nervous influence has its origin in the brain, the spinal 
marrow, or the ganglia (which latter are little white masses 
found in the different parts of the body), and is conveyed by 
white cords into every fibre of the body, producing feeling, 
movement, in fact life. The brain is that mass of gray and 
white matter contained within the skull, which is the special in- 
strument of the mind, while the spinal marrow is a thick cord, 
of similar substance, running through the bony tube of the 
spine. There is no separation between tl>e brain and spinal- 
marrow; we feel the head moving udou the spine, but there is 
no division between them at the nape of the neck; they are 
encased by similar membranes, bathed by similar fluids, and 
formed of similar substance; the connection between the two 
must necessarily, then, be very intimate. 

"The whole substance of the spinal cord is specially devoted 
to supply the muscular system with nervous influence; large 
white nerve-cords escape from the spinal marrow along the 
whole extent of the trunk, and branch off, in finer and finer 
threads, to every muscle in the body; the largest nerves in the 
whole body, being three-quarters of an inch wide, branch off in 
this way in the lower part of the trunk, and extend to the 
many powerful muscles situated in this part of the body, and 



310 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

to the lower extremities. Moreover, that the muscular system 
may not be isolated from the rest of the body, but that its in- 
fluence for good or ill may be felt in every organ, branches of 
these nerves are sent off to each one, although they are spe 
cially supplied from another source; so that the muscles, the 
various organs of the body, and the brain are intimately linked 
together." 

We have dwelt upon this point a little because nervous dis- 
eases are frightfully on the increase in this country among all 
classes, young and old, male and female, and because the- 
writer knows by painful experience that where acute or chronic 
nervousness exists, there happiness is not, and never can be,, 
until general good health is restored. 




HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 311 



CHAPTEE III. 

Rest and Recreation. 

As a nation we are intolerant of rest. If we have a brilliant man, we in- 
sist upon his always shining. We want our rose bushes to bloom all the 
year round, we would have our trees all bearing fruit, and our suns always 
shining. Like the earth, minds must lie fallow at times. Perpetual crops 
exhaust any soil, and perpetual excitement will wear out any mind or body. 

Waverlt Magazine. 

The deepest-rooted cause of American disease is that overworking of the 
brain and over-excitement of the nervous system, which are the necessary 
consequences of their intense activity. Hence nervous dyspepsia, with con- 
sumption, insanity, and aLi its brood of fell disorders in its train. In a word ? 
the American works himself to death. 

James Stirling. 

[FOLLOWING logically from the subject of the last 
chapter, is the topic of this. Happiness not only 
f^F^ requires a state of general good health, but good 
health requires periods of rest and recreation, as well as 
steady labor. The old adage, "What everybody says must 
be true," or "Where there is much smoke, there must be 
some fire," holds good in relation to this subject of American 
"overwork and under-rest," as one has phrased it. Nearly every 
observant writer, thinker, or traveler, is remarking upon the fact 
that the majority of people in this country are killing them- 
selves by inches in making their life "all work and no play ;" run- 
ning one ceaseless round of toil, with no seasons of rest and re- 
lxation, other than those which come necessarily. And without 
doubt there is much of pertinence and force in this represen- 
tation. One has only to look around, or possibly look within, 
to be convinced of the fact that large numbers of people are 
dragging themselves down to death by overwork, just to grat- 
ify an insatiate ambition to be richer and greater than Mr. 




812 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

A. or Mrs. B. who live over the way, and who " put on airs " 
occasionally by making a tremendous display in dress, equip- 
age, etc. 

Says Dr. Mathews: "Of all the nations of the earth there 
is no one among whom this doctrine of ' grind' has taken 
deeper root than among us Americans. From the days of the 
Puritans we have been excessively fond of work, — work, not 
as a means of getting a living only, but in itself and for its 
own sake. It seems as if we felt the primeval curse ever 
weighing upon us, and so we continue to drudge like galley- 
slaves, even after we have provided for the ever-dreaded •' rainy 
day,' and the pressure of bread-getting has long since passed. 
Hence we have so few holidays and seasons of rest or recrea- 
tion, that, when they do come, we are perplexed to know what 
to do with ourselves. 

" It is time that this everlasting drudgery should cease among 
us, and that some higher lessons should be impressed upon the 
brain of the infantile Yankee than the old saws about industry, 
money-getting, and the like. Let us abate something, at least, 
of our devotion to the almighty dollar, and regard the world 
as something better than a huge workshop, in which we are to 
toil and moil unceasingly, till death stops the human machine. 
Let us learn that the surest and best way to get on in the 
world is not to travel by 'lightning lines,' but 'to hasten 
slowly.' It is a libel on Providence to suppose that it has 
designed that we should live such a plodding, mechanical life, 
that we should be mere mill-horses, treading evermore the 
same dull, unvarying round, and all for grist, grist, still grist, 
till we have become as blind and stupid as that most unhappy 
of all quadrupeds." 

No one can fail to have noticed the number of business men 
and professional men who die suddenly every year from apo- 
plexy, paralysis, and kindred complaints. They go along from 
year to year, working a little harder and steadier all the time, 
because in truth they must in order to keep pace with their 
constantly increasing business, pay but little attention to the 
demands of exhausted nature, or an overtasked brain, until 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 313 

suddenly, some day, they fall down as though they had been 
shot, and without warning or preparation, they are ushered 
into another world. A proper verdict in all such cases would 
be:. Suicide from overwork. 

IJean Swift, who was a great mental worker, gating upon a 
noble oak whose topmost branches had been withered by 
lightning, mournfully exclaimed, " I shall be like that tree; I 
shall die a-top." He had been afflicted for years with giddi- 
ness and pain in the head, looked forward with prophetic dread 
to insanity as the portion of his later life, and sure enough, it 
came at last; he died as he had feared the inmate of an asylum. 
When Lej'den, a Scotch enthusiast, was warned by his physi- 
cian of the consequences, if he continued while ill with a fe- 
ver and liver-complaint, to study ten hours a day, he coolly 
replied: " Whether I am to live or die, the wheel must go 
round to the last. ... I may perish in the attempt, but 
if I die without surpassing Sir William Jones a hundred-fold 
in Oriental learning, let never a tear for me profane the eye of 
a borderer." No wonder that he sank into his grave in his 
thirty-sixth year, the victim of self-murder. 

Alexander Nicolly, a professor of Hebrew at Oxford, who, it 
is said, could walk to the wall of China without an interpre- 
ter, died a few years ago at the same age, chiefly from the 
effects of intense study; and Dr. Alexander Murray, a similar 
prodigy, died at thirty-eight of the same cause. Sir Hum- 
phrey Davy, in the height of his fame, nearly killed himself 
by the excessive eagerness with which he prosecuted his in- 
quiries into the alkaline metals, pursuing his labors in the 
night till three or four o'clock, and even *then often rising be- 
fore the servants of the laboratory. Excessive application 
threw Boerhave into a delirium for six weeks; it gave a shock 
to the powerful frame of Newton ; it cut short the days of Sir 
Walter Scott, and it laid }n the grave the celebrated Weber, 
whose mournful exclamation, amid his multiplied engage- 
ments, is familiar to many an admirer of his weird-like music: 
"Would that I were a tailor, for then I should have a Sun- 
day's holiday.'" 



314 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

It was the same cause that struck down Sir William Ham- 
ilton in his fifty-sixth year with paralysis, and ended the life 
of the most brilliant and influential of American journalists, 
H. J. Raymond, in a cerebral crash at the early age of forty- 
nine. The effects of such toil in this country are far more 
disastrous than in Europe, foi\ owing to climate and other 
agencies, work of every kind is more exhausting here than 
there. It is related of Sir Philip Sidney, that when at Frank- 
fort, he was advised by the celebrated printer, Languet, not 
to neglect his health during his studies, " lest he should re- 
semble a traveler who, during a long journey, attends to him- 
self but not to his horse." 

All this is especially true of the dwellers and workers in 
large cities. Eo one unacquainted with the facts can have 
any idea of the almost insupportable pressure which each day 
brings to bear upon the brain of one who aspires to be a lead- 
ing lawyer, merchant, or business man of any kind, in a great 
city. As has been truly said, u anxious and perplexing thought 
sits on his brow as he rubs his eyes at daybreak; hurrying to 
the breakfast table, he swallows his steak and his coffee in a 
twinkling, jumps from his chair almost immediately, and 
without having spoken a pleasant word, hastens away to the 
high courts uf Mammon, to engage in the sharp struggle for 
pelf. There he spends hour after hour in calculating how to 
change his hundreds to thousands; dinner and supper — which 
he bolts, never eats — come and go almost without observation; 
even nightfall finds him still employed, with body and mind 
jaded, and eyes smarting with sleeplessness; till at length, far 
in the night, the toil-worn laborer seeks his couch, only to 
think of the struggles and anxieties of the day, or to dream 
of those of to-morrow." Thus, matters go on for a few fever- 
ish years, when he breaks down utterly, is obliged to go off to 
Europe or is confined to his home, and at last dies a wretched 
miserable, broken-down man. Where is the sense or the wis- 
dom or the happiness in a life of this sort ? 

In accordance with this rush and hurly-burly of work and 
strain and fret and worry which is so common among all 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 315 

classes in these times, the character of diseases has changed 
in the same direction. There are fewer cases of lingering 
consumption than formerly, while all the sharp and sudden 
diseases have fearfully increased. Most fevers, it is said, run 
now to a low typhoid form, and men are constantl} 7 sinking 
down in middle life from the giving out of life's vital forces. 
Such a death as Dryden described some two-hundred years 
ago is becoming more and more rare. 

Of no distemper, of no blast he died, 

But fell like autumn fruit that mellowed long, 

Even wondered at because he dropped no sooner. 

Fate seemed to wind him up for fourscore years, 

Yet freshly he ran out ten winters more, 

Till, like a clock worn out with beating time, 

The wheels of weary life at last stovd still. 

Instead of this, the toilers of to-day drop like Holmes's 
"one-hoss shay," which 

Went to pieces all at once, 
All at once, and nothing first, — 
Just as bubbles do when they burst. 

Nor is the case much better with those who toil upon farms 
or in the shops. Says Dr. J. G. Holland: " No one can settle 
down in a European city or village for a month, and observe 
the laboring classes, without noticing a great difference be- 
tween their aspirations, ambitions and habits, and those of 
corresponding classes in this country. He may see great pov- 
erty in a continental town, and men and women laboring 
severely and faring meanly, and a hopeless gap existing be- 
tween classes; he may see the poor virtually the slaves of the 
rich; but he will witness a measure of contentment and a daily 
participation in humble pleasures to which his eyes have been 
strangers at home. Much of this apparent contentment and 
enjoyment undoubtedly comes from the hopelessness of the 
struggle for anything better. An impassable gulf exists be- 
tween them and the educated and aristocratic classes — a gulf 
which they have recognized from their birth; and, having 



3 IB THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

recognized this, they have recognized their own limitations, 
and adapted themselves to them. Seeing just what they can 
do and cannot do, they very rationally undertake to get out 
of life just what their condition renders attainable. There is 
no far-off, crowning good for them to aim at; so they try to 
get what they can on the way. They make much of fete- 
days, and social gatherings, and music, and do what they can 
to sweeten their daily toil, which they know must tie continued 
while the power to labor lasts. 

" But in America this is far different. The typical man in 
this country is never satisfied with what he has, but is con- 
stantly striving for something more and higher. He does not 
waste money on pleasure, and does not approve of those who 
do so. He lives in a constant fever of hope and expectation, 
or grows sour with hope deferred or blank disappointment. 
Out of it all grows the worship of wealth and that demorali- 
zation which results in unscrupulousness concerning the meth- 
ods of its acquirement. So America presents the anomaly of 
a laboring class with unprecedented prosperity and privileges, 
and unexampled discontent and discomfort. 

" There is surely something better than this. There is some 
thing better than a life-long sacrifice of content and enjoy- 
ment for a possible wealth, which, however, may never be 
acquired, and which has not the power, when won, to yield its 
holder the boon which he expects it to purchase. To with- 
hold from the frugal wife the gown she desires, to deny her 
the journey which would do so much to break up the monotony 
of her home-life, to rear children in mean ways, to shut away 
from the family life a thousand social pleasures, to relinquish 
all amusements that have a cost attached to them, for wealth 
which may or may not come when the family life is broken up 
forever — surely this is neither sound enterprise nor wise econo- 
my. We would not have the American laborer, farmer and me- 
chanic become improvident, but we would very much like to 
see them happier than they are, by resort to the daily sociable 
enjoyments which are always ready to their hand. Nature is 
strong in the young, and they will have society and play of 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 317 

some sort. It should remain strong in the old, and docs 
remain strong in them, until it is expelled by the absorbing 
and subordinating passion for gain. 

"Something of the Old World fondness for play, and 
daily or weekly indulgence in it, should become habitual 
among our workers. Toil would be sweeter if there were a 
reward at the end of it; work would be gentler when used as 
a means for securing a pleasure which stands closer than an 
old age of ease; character would be softer and richer and more 
childlike, when acquired among genial, every-day delights. 
The all-subordinating strife for wealth, carried on with fearful 
struggles -and constant self-denials, makes us petty, irritable 
and hard. When the whole American people have learned 
that a dollar's worth of pure pleasure is worth more than any- 
thing else under the sun; that working is not living, but only 
the means by which we win a living; that money is good for 
nothing except for what itbrings of comfort and culture; and 
that we live not in the future, but in the present, they will be 
a happy people — happier and better than they have been." 

It is truly a sad sight to see a human being in whom the 
impulse and disposition for play has died out. Sad to see a 
man or a woman get so accustomed to the routine of labor 
that they cannot break it off to indulge in any kind of recrea- 
.tion or amusement. A man begins life with an overflow of 
vitality and animal spirits which makes him bright, genial, 
and playful. He sympathizes with children, plays with brutes, 
enjoys society, and indulges in recreative exercises of mind 
and body. Then he plunges into business and works away for 
twenty years or more, and finally wakes up to the fact that 
there is no interest in life to him except in daily toil. 

The same thing is true of literary men in some cases. They 
write so much and so constantly that they are obliged to keep 
it up as a preventive of something worse. "I must write to 
empty my mind," said Byron, "or go mad." When Sir 
Walter Scott was warned by his medical advisers, after his 
first attack of apoplexy, that if he persisted in working his 



318 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

brain, his malady must inevitably recur with redoubled sever- 
ity, he replied: "As for bidding me not work, Molly might 
as well put the kettle on the fire, and say, '-Now don? I boil? 
. . . . I foresee distinctly that if I were to be idle I should 
go mad." Go mad he did, from excessive labor; but not till 
after many a warning and presentiment of the attack of which 
lie died. Years before his death the ..-reluctant, conviction 
forced itself on the mind of his son-in-law, Mr. Lockhart, that 
the mighty magician of the pen was losing something of his 
energy. Though the faculties were there, and occasionally 
blazed forth with their old meridian splendor, yet his saga- 
cious judgment and matchless memory were frequently at 
fault: — 

"Among the chords the fingers strayed, 
And an uncertain warbling made." 

Ever and anon he paused and looked around him, like one 
half waking from a dream mocked with shadows. The sad 
bewilderment of his gaze showed a momentary consciousness 
that, like Samson in the lap of the Philistine, "his strength 
was passing from him, and he was becoming weak, like unto 
other men." Then came the strong effort of aroused will. 
The clouds dispersed as if before a resistless current of pure 
air; all was bright and serene as of old; and then the sky was 
shrouded again in yet deeper darkness, till at last the night of 
death closed the scene. It is said that Dr. Sanwiel Johnson, 
whose intellectual as well as his moral structure was grand 
and powerful, passed all his days in the dread of a similar in- 
tellectual eclipse. 

Now, it is but a truism to assert that there can be no such 
thing as enjoyment or happiness in leading such lives as have 
just been outlined. While work is necessary, steady, regular 
work, work up to the full measure of human capacity, yet 
seasons of rest and recreation are equally essential. It used 
to be thought that the time spent in sleep was comparatively 
lost, so far as utility was concerned, but happily this notion is 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 319 

no longer tenable. In fact, more people die every year for the 
want of sufficient sleep, than from hardly any other single 
cause. 

The very highest medical authorities in the world now agree 
that the best possible thing for a man to do when he feels too 
weak to carry anything through, is to go to bed and sleep as 
long as he can. This is the only actual recuperation of brain 
force; because, during sleep, the brain is in a state of rest, in 
a condition to receive and appropriate particles of nutriment 
from the blood, which take the place of those which have been 
consumed by previous labor, since the very act of thinking 
burns up solid particles, as every turn of the wheel or screw of 
the steamer is the result of consumption by fire of the fuel in 
the furnace. The supply, of consumed brain-substance, can 
only be had from the nutritive particles in the blood, which 
were obtained from the food eaten previously, and the brain is 
so constituted that it can best receive and appropriate to itself 
these nutritive particles during the state of rest, or quiet 
and stillness in sleep. Mere stimulants supply nothing in 
themselves; they goad the brain and force it to a greater con- 
sumption of its substance,, until it is so exhausted that there is 
not power enough left to take up a fresh supply. 

With regard to methods, and kinds of recreation, each one 
must judge for himself. Some are rejuvenated and restored 
by a simple change of employment, others must indulge in 
some innocent, harmless game, or play, while others again de- 
mand total quiet. The one main thing to be looked after is, 
that the change, or quiet, whichever is chosen, shall be pleasant 
and agreeable, instead of forced or perfunctory. Whatever a 
person loves to do, is done with far less weariness and exhaus- 
tion than labor which is felt to be a drudgery. But neither 
should recreation, on the other hand, be carried to excess, since 
play or exercise of any kind pursued to weariness, is just as bad 
as overwork. The original and primal fact in this matter is, 
that there is only about so much physical, mental and nerv- 
ous vitality in each human system to begin with, and when 



■320 



THE .IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



this amount is overdrawn, your drafts and calls for more 
; power go to protest — that is, are not responded to. In fact, 
nature keeps as strict an account with each individual as any 
bank would, and will not honor demands beyond the amount 
jof strength deposited or husbanded. But the only funds neces- 
sary to keep the amount good, are proper seasons of rest and 
recreation, intermingled with a generous diet and a steady oc- 
cupation. '.>.'. 





S "fit fl I B & E ID) Bfl © P E S 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 321 



CHAPTER IT. 

Society and Happiness. 

Without good company, all danties 

Lose their true relish, and, like painted grapes, 

Are only seen, not tasted. 

Philip Massinger. 

Unhappy he who from the first of joys. 
Society, cut off, is left alone 
Amid this world of death. 

Thomson. 

Man in society is like a flower 
Blown in its native bud. ' Tis there alone 
His faculties, expanded in full bloom, 
Shine out ; there only reach their proper use. 
Cowper. 

the very beginning, it was declared by the highest 
possible authority that it was not good for man to be 
alone. This truth, being a fundamental one, holds 
good for all time. Society and social intercourse, when of a 
proper kind and not carried to excess, become a very impor- 
tant aid to human enjoyment. The man who has no society 
of any kind, becomes morbid in his feelings and views, sharp, 
angular and disagreeably peculiar in his opinions, grows self- 
conceited, and is apt to fancy himself and his things as the 
center of the universe in importance and value. And when, 
with these views, he attempts to make others and the things 
of others revolve around him and his own affairs, he at once 
encounters an opposition which either frightens him back into 
deeper and closer retirement, or else arouses in him an honest 
but ill-grounded indignation which makes him the laughing- 
stock of all with whom he attempts to deal. To such an one 
21 




322 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

life becomes an entirely unsatisfactory, one-sided, and com- 
paratively useless possession. Therefore all should cultivate 
social relations and thus give vent to the social instincts of their 
natures. It is good to have self and personal cares go into 
the background occasionally, and let the. interests and welfare 
of others come to the front. It is good to measure ourselves, 
our views, feelings, and achievements, by the lives and 
thoughts of those about us. There is also real culture and 
refinement to be gained in good society. One gets the sharp 
angles and rough corners of his nature and manners taken off, 
he acquires a degree of self-confidence, he learns something of 
gentility and politeness by the action and influence of social 
currents, just as stones on the sea-beach become round, smooth, 
and polished through the continued friction of dashing waves. 
Young, bright, and healthful natures should not allow them- 
selves to grow morose, churlish, and ill-natured by selfish iso- 
lation from social enjoyments. On the contrary, they should 
cultivate a genial, cheerful spirit and temper. Such a spirit 
is of great price and of great power. In the " Merchant of 
Venice" the dramatist asks, 

Why should a man whose blood is warm within, 
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? 
Sleep when he wakes, and creep into jaundice 
By being peevish ? 

And to such a question, it may well be replied, " There is 
no need of it." Better far to cultivate a cheerful social na- 
ture whose very presence carries sunshine with it wherever it 
goes. If there is no joy in the heart, no nobility in the soul, 
no benevolence and generosity in the mind, a person's whole 
character will soon grow as cold as an iceberg, hard as granite 
rock, and as bleak, barren, and arid as the desert of Sahara. 
Says S. C. Goodrich: "Of all virtues, cheerfulness is the most 
profitable. It makes the person who exercises it happy, and 
renders him acceptable to all he meets. While other virtues 
defer the day of recompense, cheerfulness pays down. It is a 
cosmetic which makes homeliness graceful and winning, it 
promotes health and gives clearness and vigor to the mind, it 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 323 

Is the bright weather of the heart in contrast to the clouds 
and gloom of melancholy." 

Again, there is no trait of human nature which is more pre- 
cious and valuable than a quick and ready sympathy with the 
joys and woes of others, " rejoicing with those that do rejoice, 
and weeping with those that weep." Sympathy always marks 
the true man and the noble nature. And why should we not 
be sympathetic? The world is a unit in interests, and we all 
stand or fall together. u JSTo man liveth unto himself, and no 
man dietli unto himself." Humanity is linked together by a 
thousand different cords, like the different parts of a body. 
The foot cannot say to the hand, I have no need of thee, nor 
the hand to the head, I have no need of thee. Neither can 
any one man or woman, or any one class of men or women ? 
stand apart and say to the rest of the world, I can get along 
without your help. We are all dependent upon one another 
for more comforts and pleasures than we realize, or even know 
of. Whittier truly says : 

Like warp and woof all destinies 

Are woven fast, 
Linked in sympathy like the keys 

Of an organ vast: 
Pluck but one thread, and the web ye mar, 

Break but one 
Of a thousand keys, and the paining jar 

Through all will run. 

In fact, this power of social sympathy marks the line of broad 
distinction between mankind and the lower orders of being. 
"Though the lower animals have feeling," writes the eloquent 
Dr. Guthrie of Scotland, " they have no fellow-feeling. Have 
I not seen the horse enjoying his feed of corn when his yoke- 
fellow lay a-dying in the neighboring stall, and never turn an 
eye of pity on the sufferer? They have strong passions, but 
no sympathy. It is said that the wounded deer sheds tears, 
but it belongs to man only to divide by sympathy another's 
sorrows and double another's joys. They say that if a piano 
is struck in a room where stands another unopened and un- 



324 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

touched, lie who lays his ear to that will hear a string within, 
as if touched by a shadowy spirit, sound the same note; but 
more strange and more glorious how the strings of one heart 
vibrate to those of another." Rev. Henry Clay Trumbull, 
preaching once in a prison, said in his sermon, that the only 
difference between himself and his hearers was owing to the 
grace of God. Afterwards one of the prisoners sent for him 
and asked, "Did you mean what you said about sympathizing 
with us?" Being assured that the utterance was genuine, he 
said: "lam here for life, but I can stay more contentedly 
now that I know I have a brother out in the world." It is- 
said the man behaved so well afterward that he was pardoned, 
and that he died in the last war thanking God to the last for 
the preacher's sympathy. " Happy then is the man who has 
that in his soul which acts upon others as April airs upon vio- 
let roots. Gifts from the hand are silver and gold, but the 
heart gives that which neither silver nor gold can buy. To 
be full of goodness, full of cheerfulness, full of sympathy, full 
of helpful hope, causes a man to move on human life as stars 
move on dark seas to bewildered mariners." 

But it is not enough to be simply social, in orcfer to be 
happy, one must have a kind of society which elevates and 
ennobles, rather than that which depresses and destroys. ' Tis 
not society alone which blesses, but good society. In fact, it 
would be better to have none at all, than mingle with bad 
companions. For just as the tree-frog is said to take on the 
color of whatever he adheres to for a short time, being dark- 
green when found on green corn, and the color of white-oak 
bark when attached to that tree, so men and woman genera ly 
resemble those with whom they associate. The river Thames 
in England is a sweet and pretty river near its source, but be- 
fore it gets through the city of London it has been with sew- 
ers and drains so much as to become most foul and nauseating. 
It was intended that the river should purify the sewers, but 
instead of that the sewers have corrupted the river. So it is 
with pure minds and morals and bad company. 

The wise old philosopher, Pythagoras, before he admitted 
any one into his school always inquired into the character ot 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 325 

his associates; and from this circumstance, doubtless, arose the 
modern proverb, that a man may be known by the company 
which lie keeps. There are some kinds of society whose in- 
fluence is like an infectious disease, corrupting all who come 
within reach of it. In fact all society either lifts up or drags 
-down according to its character and quality. Bad boys have 
ruined many a lad who would otherwise have grown up to be 
a useful and honorable man, while bad women have slain their 
victims by thousands. In ancient fable, there was a creature 
whose name was Circe. She was represented as living in a 
beautiful palace on an island, where were flowers, music, and 
many other attractions. Whoever came to see her, as a guest, 
she first feasted with delicacies and wine, then touched them 
with a wand and transformed them into lions, tigers, wolves, 
swine, or some other kind of animal, and set them adrift 
to roam through her grounds. Not very dissimilar to this 
is the effect of bad female society, or bad companions of either 
sex, upon those who would be virtuous, noble, and true. 

Again, in order to have social pleasures contribute to hap- 
piness they must not be pursued to excess. Many people 
become so infatuated with society and social intercourse that 
they are perfectly unhappy when alone, or even when about 
their daily business. In fact, when this delusion gets fast 
hold of the mind, all work is turned into drudgery, and the 
person becomes a miserable loiterer, or a dissatisfied grumbler 
and complainer, instead of an active, cheerful, healthy and 
useful worker in the world's great hive of industry. This is a 
wretched perversion of a noble gift and a pleasurable privilege. 
We urge, therefore, that all young people should guard them- 
selves in this direction, and not allow the love of society, and 
especially what is called fashionable society, to run away 
with them. Whenever a person finds himself or herself 
wishing to be in gay company all the time, and are really un- 
happy when not in it; whenever the thought of being alone, 
or of being obliged to work, strikes a dread in the mind, it 
is then high time to order " down brakes" on the indulgence of 
the social propensity. 



326 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

There is hardly any form of dissipation more debilitating 
or more injurious to body, mind, and heart, than a continual 
round of parties, balls, and evening entertainments. When- 
ever anybody gets into such a condition of mind that they 
must be "on the go" all the time in order to enjoy anything, 
such a person will soon find themselves "on the go" towards 
general ruin, or at best, towards practical good-for-nothing- 
ness. 

While society is good by way of spice or variety, while it 
has many noble and useful functions to perform in the devel- 
opment and refinement of human nature, yet, perverted from 
its true intent, it is changed into a source of great evil. It 
encourages and necessitates extravagance in dress, it includes 
late hours at night which should be given up to " tired na- 
ture's sweet restorer," healthful sleep, it furnishes an occasion 
for calling out much heart-bitterness in the line of envy and 
jealousy between rivals and opponents, and serves to evoke 
much hypocritical dissembling and pretense in the way of 
friendship. As Cowper says: 

She who invites 
Her clear five hundred friends, but contemns them all 
And dreads their coming — what can they less 
Than shrug and grimace to hide their hate of her. 

Such society as this is a curse, and the less one has of it the 
better. Sincerity and truthfulness and unaffected naturalness 
and ease are the only social qualities which shine with steady 
lustre or benefit by their attractive light. 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 327 



CHAPTER Y. 

Human Love. 

Love is life's end — an end but never ending! 

Love is life's wealth — ne'er spent but ever spending! 

Love is life's reward — rewarded in rewarding. 

Edmund Spenser. 

O the tender ties, 
Close-twisted with the fibres of the heart, 
"Which, broken, drains the soul of human joy, 
And makes it pain to live. 

Edward Young. 

Love is not to be reasoned down, or lost 
In high ambition, or a thirst for greatness : 
'Tis second life, it grows into the soul, 
Warms every vein, and beats in every pulse. 

Joseph Addison. 

Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, 
And men below and saints above ; 
For love is heaven, and heaven is love. 

Sir Walter Scott, 



HERE are a few persons in the world who affect to 
despise the sentiment which forms the subject of this 
'chapter. They even go so far in their pretended con- 
tempt for it as to pronounce the very word, love, with a sort 
of sneering, drawling tone of voice.- They call it sickish, 
silly, sentimental nonsense, and all that. But, reader, notice 
it whenever and wherever you will, those persons are generally 
in one of three different classes, namely: disappointed old 
maids and bachelors who once wanted to love somebody and 
tried it, but did not succeed to their heart's satisfaction; or 
they are sordid, hardened, debased, miserly skin-flints whose 




328 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

only idea of life is getting money, and who are correctly rep- 
resented by the character of Shylock in "The Merchant of 
Yevice"; or they are the so-called intellectual and strong- 
minded men and women who have sacrificed the better and 
higher part of their natures for the exclusive pursuit of some 
inferior good, to the attainment of which they have devoted 
their lives. 

But all three of these classes are at best only abnormal and 
unhealthy specimens of humanity. Naturally unlovable them- 
selves by nature or by choice, they try to drag down everybody 
and everything else around them to their own base level of 
existence, and like Satan in " Paradise Lost," speak dis- 
paragingly of those "high seats above" on a happier plane 
of life which they feel they may never hope to secure. All 
healthy, right-minded and normally-constructed beings, how- 
ever, never occupy any such attitude towards this passion of 
the soul, as that which has just been described; for they know 
too well that love is the very life-blood Of happiness, and con- 
stitutes the native element in which it lives, moves and has 
its being. They know that what the air is to the lungs, that 
love is to the life of the heart. They know that love and happi- 
ness are (to change the figure) like the two faces of the same 
golden coin. They know that this delightful compound of 
sentiment and feeling enters into the best, highest, deepest, 
and purest joy of earth. They feel like Scott, that not only 
is heaven above the realm of love, but that the very nature of 
God himself, as well as the very essence of all religion, is com- 
prehended in the one magic word which rests on so many 
human lips and nestles so warmly in so many human hearts. 

But love is of various kinds and qualities, and so also is 
happiness. In its lowest form love is hardly more than sim- 
ple passion, or lust. But it does not stay here long, it goes 
up into the region of sentiment and fancy and thereby be- 
comes aesthetic in nature. It next lays a strong hold upon 
the imagination, and through this door enters the heart. Still 
farther on in its development it becomes a fixed habit of ex- 
istence, or the ruling and governing power in the whole 




T^E L@f El 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 329 

nature. It then controls thought, feeling, action, and when 
associated with religion is a twin motive with the principle 
of duty. As such, it is man's highest teacher and hest inward 
monitor. It elevates the soul and all its outgoings. It an- 
tagonizes everything like barbarity in human nature, and so 
becomes like a " refiner and purifier of silver." It stimulates 
and encourages every noble endeavor and rewards the doer 
with garlands of satisfaction and delight. It is the spur to 
all self-conquest, as well as the subjugator of all external ob- 
stacles and impediments in nature. Says George Chapman, 
an early dramatist, 

Love is nature's second sun, 
Causing a spring of virtues where'er it shines. 
And as without a sun, the world's great eye, 
All colors, beauties, both of art and nature, 
Are given in vain to man ; so without love 
All beauties bred in woman are in vain, 
All virtues born in men lie buried ; 
For love reveals them as a sun doth color. 
And as the sun reflecting his warm beams 
Against the earth, begets all fruits and flowers, 
So love, fair shining in the inward man, 
Brings forth in him the honorable fruits 
Of valor, wit, virtue, and noble thoughts, 
Brave resolution and divine discourse. 

We find the same thought happily expressed again in the 
well-known comedy of "Love's Labor Lost:" 

Love, first learned in a lady's eyes, 
Lives not alone immured within the brain; 
But with the motion of all elements 
Courses as swift as thought in every power, 
And gives to every power a double power 
Above their functions and their offices. 

Has the reader ever seen the flight of an English skylark? 
Starting from the ground on which he builds his lowly nest, 
he circles his way upward through the air, rising higher and 
higher and pouring back a flood of deep, rich song as he 
ascends; when finally lost to view in the cerulean sky above, he 
still sends downward the entrancing echoes of his melody even 



330 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

after his form is hidden in clouds. So love starts from the 
ground nest of physical nature, rises, as already outlined, into 
the upper air of sentiment and fancy, takes hold of the imag- 
ination and through that door enters the heart, and ever sing- 
ing as it goes, stops not in its penetrating progress until it is 
lost to outward sight in that hidden department of the soul 
where it links itself with the Divine, whence it floods the whole 
being with emotions of tenderest quality and with songs of 
exquisite melody. 

This is our view, but a popular writer and speaker says: 
" Love amid the other graces in this world, is like a cathe- 
dral tower which begins on the earth and at first is surrounded 
by the other parts of the structure. But at length, rising 
above buttressed walls and arch and parapet and pinnacle, it 
shoots, spire-like, many a foot right into the air — so high that 
the huge cross on its summit glows like a star in the evening 
sky, when the rest of the pile is enveloped in darkness. Here, 
love divides the honors with the other graces, but they will 
have felt the wrap of night and darkness about them, when it 
will shine luminous against the sky of eternity." 

Gail Hamilton has compared love and its workings to "a 
molecule of oxygen which roams lonely through the vast uni- 
verse yearning for its mate and finding no rest, until, of a 
sudden, it meets a molecule of hydrogen in a quiet nook; 
when lo! a rush, an embrace, and then no more either oxygen 
or hydrogen, but a diamond drop of dew sparkling on the 
white bosom of the lily." But the truth of the matter is, as 
Peter Bayne declares, "love has a thousand modes and forms, 
all of which may be consistent with reality and truth. It 
may come to some like the burst of morning light, kindling 
the whole soul into new life and radiance, or it may grow inaudi- 
bly and unknown in others until its roots are found to be 
through and through the heart entwined with every fibre." 

For love is a plant of strange growth, writes Augusta Evans, 
"now lifting its head feebly in rich, sunny spots where every 
fostering influence is enjoyed, and now springing vigorous from 
barren, rocky cliffs, defying adverse elements and sending its 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 331 

fibrous roots deeper and deeper in uncongenial soil; now bend- 
ing before the fierce breath of storms only to erect itself more 
firmly, and sometimes spreading its delicate petals on the edge 
of eternal snow — but in all cases, self-sustaining, invincible, 
and immortal." 

The following incident will serve to illustrate the strength 
of this sentiment when once aroused and in full control of the 
heart: A young Englishman, Gilbert Becket by name, en- 
listed as a soldier in the Crusades, and being taken prisoner 
became a slave to a Saracen prince, where he not only obtained 
the confidence of his master, but was also loved by his mas- 
ter's fair daughter. By and by he had a chance to escape from 
his bondage and went back to his native land. But the de- 
voted girl with her loving heart followed him. She knew but 
two words of the English language, and these were — London 
and Gilbert \ but by repeating the first she obtained passage in 
a vessel to the great English metropolis, and then she went 
from street to street pronouncing the other word, " Gilbert." 
A crowd collected about her, asking a thousand questions, but 
to one "and' all she returned the same answer — " Gilbert." At 
last she came to the street on which Gilbert really lived in a 
prosperous condition. The usual crowd drew the family to 
the window, Gilbert himself saw and recognized her, and took 
to his arms and home his far- come princess with her solitary 
fond word. 

For & similar illustration of the power of the same senti- 
ment in the heart of a man, read the closing stanza of Edgar 
A. Poe's famous poem entitled, "Annabel Lee:" — 

O the moon never beams without bringing me dreams 

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee, 
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes 

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. 
And so all the night-tide I lie down by the side 
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride, 

In her sepulcher there by the sea, 

In her tomb by the sounding sea. 

Therefore, reader mine, whoever you are, whether man, 
woman, youth, maiden, or child, remember if you ever wish to 



332 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

know the meaning of true earthly joy and of sweetest happi- 
ness below, you must never in a fit of wanton folly or despair, 
pluck the brightest jewel from the diadem of your faculties 
and cast it ruthlessly away, or seek to trample it beneath the 
iron hoof of lordly ambition or encrust it with the cankerous 
greed of gold. Above all things else, keep your heart-life, 
which is always the life of love, fresh, sweet, tender and sym- 
pathetic. The golden wealth of India or the nobler wealth of 
intellectual power can never compensate for the rarer and 
more precious wealth of deep, true, genuine affection. The 
love of a child! what more beautiful and innocent and attract- 
ive than that? The love of youth! what can be richer and 
happier? As Moore says: — 

New hope may bloom, 
And days may come 
Of milder, brighter beam, 
But there's nothing half so sweet in life 
As Love's young dream. 

As young men and maidens grow up and mature in thought 
and feeling, there comes to them a time when a new joy breaks 
in upon their hearts, like a tide from a distant sea or a breath 
from a fairer land. Under the influence of this strange, sweet 
feeling, the world begins to wear a new aspect, and life takes 
on a fuller and deeper significance. Cherish the visit of this 
heavenly messenger to your heart, for such he will prove him- 
self to be, if properly entertained and guarded and kept. 
Throw not away your treasure lightly, but keep it until you 
can bestow it worthily. Its presence and power are never to 
be regretted unless they lead you into folly, shame and crime. 
The love of a mother! what is holier, purer, or stronger? The 
love of a father ! how courageous and deep ! The love of brother 
and sister! how tender and true! The love of God! how in- 
finite and all-embracing! Tell me, reader, is there anything 

sickish, silly, or sentimental," about all these? Ah, no; — 

"True love's the gift which God hath given 
To man alone beneath the heaven. 
Its holy flame for ever burnetii, 



4C 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 333 

From heaven it came, to heaven returneth. 

It is not fantasy's hot fire, 

It liveth not in fierce desire, 

It is the secret sympathy, 

The silver link, the silken tie, 

Which heart to heart, and mind to mind 

In body and in soul doth bind." 

This is an age when heart-life is apparently dying out, and' 
passion, intense business rivalry, cold, heartless ambition or 
intellectual pre-eminence are seeking with desperate energy to 
usurp Love's throne. It were well if the fire of true affection 
were kindled afresh on the Heart's purer altar. There is 
plenty of passion in society, yea, too much of it; plenty of 
jealousy and envy, and strife after social pre-eminence, and all 
that, but where is the good, pure, old-fashioned love between 
persons which used to be seen and enjoyed? Has it gone as 
a dream of the past, never to come back any more, or is it a 
purely mythical or imaginary possession? Or, have we be- 
come so intensely civilized as not to need such an element any 
longer? Several things conspire to crush out or keep down 
this life of the heart, which is a life of sentiment, of beauty, 
and of love. 

On the physical and material side of life, there is the- race 
after wealth and place and power; a race so all-engrossing as 
to absorb every energy of one's being; a race, in the heat and 
strife of which every green herb of love in the heart is hope- 
lessly withered or consumed. No blast from fiery furnace is 
more destructive to flowers than this deadly scramble after 
money is to all the finer and nobler feelings of the soul. How 
much better to possess less outwardly, and be infinitely richer 
within ! In its reactive influence, at least, one thrill of gen. 
nine love in the soul is of far more value than any amount of 
currency in the pocket. And as a nation we are poor in this 
life of the heart, simply because we are all so nearly crazy to 
be rich. 

On the intellectual side of life the present all absorbing in- 
terest in scientific investigation is injuring this life of the 
heart. For science by its very nature can only deal with facts, 



334 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

laws and forces, and so it tends inevitably towards intellectual 
materialism. It is true, there are facts of sentiment and of 
love and of beauty, as there are of geology and philosophy, 
still the scientist as such confines himself in his studies almost 
wholly to tangible materials and concrete, practical phenomena, 
and so excludes from his thought everything of an immaterial 
or ideal character. And the tendency to this study is making 
men hard, cold, selfish, and skeptical, simply because it helps 
to kill out this heart-life, this warm, genial, sympathetic life 
of love in the soul. And on this account the sciences will al~ 
ways be inferior to the classics as a means of culture, because 
they do not appeal to the better side of human nature, do not 
waken into life the higher emotions, do not call out nor de- 
velop the life of sentiment and of beauty in the mind. Bet- 
ter be less intellectual and more loving in a world like this! 
JNo amount of talent can compensate for a dead, cold heart. 

On the society side of life where the force and power of 
women are felt, there is a vanity and an excessive love of dress 
and display which is killing out this tender love and sympa- 
thy. And as women are the natural and heaven-appointed 
guardians of this higher, finer, and better life of humanity, 
when they become derelict and degenerate, the pupils of course 
suffer with them. For man is woman's pupil in this life of 
love — God made her as his teacher — and when she lowers the 
tone of her own heart-life, she pulls down the whole social 
fabric with her. We plead, then, for a re-invigoration of our 
individual and national heart-life, for a return to the days of 
good, honest, sincere, genuine affection between man and man 
and man and woman. The true feeling of a true woman in 
regard to this subject is beautifully expressed by Mrs. Emily 
C. Judson (formerly Fanny Forrester) in a poem called, "My 
An^el Guide." Two or three stanzas read as follows: 

I gazed down life's dim labyrinth 
A wildering maze to see, 
Crossed o'er by many a tangled clue 
And wild as wild could be ; 
But as I gazed in doubt and dread, 
An angel came to me. 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. .335 

I knew him for a heavenly guide. 
I knew him even then, * * * * 
And as I leaned my weary head 
Upon his proffered breast, 
And scanned the peril-haunted wild 
From out my place of rest, 
I wondered if the shining ones 
Of Eden were more blest. 

For there was light within my soul, 
Light on my peaceful way ; 
And all around the blue above 
The clustering starlight lay ; 
While easterly I saw upreared 
The pearly gates of day! 

And, on the other hand, the true feelings of a true man on 
the same theme, are aptly embodied in some lines from 
Byron : 

Yes, love indeed is light from heaven, 
A spark of that immortal fire 
With angels shared, by Allah given, 
To lift from earth our low desire. 
A feeling from the Godhead caught 
To wean from self each sordid thought ; 
A ray from Him who formed the whole — 
A glory circling round the soul! 



aM®M 




336 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



CHAPTEfe YI. 
Courtship. 

Learn to win a lady's faith 
Nobly, as the thing is high ; 
Bravely, as for life and death, 
And with a loyal gravity. 
Lead her from the festive boards, 
Point her to the starry skies, 
Guard her by your truthful words 
Pure from courtship's flatteries. 
Then her Yes once said to you. 
Shall be Yes forevermore. 

Elizabeth B. Browning. 

Look how the blue-eyed violets 
Glance love to one another ! 
Their little leaves are whispering 
The vows they may not smother. 
The birds are pouring passion forth 
In every blossoming tree— 
If flowers and birds talk love, lady, 
Why not we ? 

T. Buchanan Eead. 

His feeling words her quickened sense much pleased 

And softly sunk into her happy heart; 

Heart that is inly hurt is greatly eased 

With hope of thing that may assuage its smart; 

For pleasing words are like to magic art. 

Spenser's Fairy Queen. 

Oh, the day when thou goest a-wooing 

Philip, my King! 
When those beautiful lips are suing, 
And, some gentle heart's bars undoing, 
Thou dost enter, love-crowned, and then 
Sittest love-glorified ! — Rule kindly, 




HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 337 

Tenderly, over thy kingdom fair ; 
For we that love, ah ! we love so blindly, 
Philip, my King ! 

Dinah Maria Mulock. 



Hi do much fear that those verv wise and would-be su- 



perior beings who were mentioned and partly described 
at the beginning of the last chapter, will be doubly 
shocked when they find us passing on from one topic to an- 
other in our contemplated ''sentimental journey," treating of 
Love, Courtship and Marriage in succession; but we cannot 
help it if they are. To be true to the facts of life, and to ac- 
curately indicate the elements of human happiness is of more 
consequence in our view than either their smiles or frowns. 
So, having written of love in general in the preceding chapter, 
we now come to one of the more concrete and practical exhi- 
bitions or applications of it in actual life. 

The period of courtship in human experience is not only 
very real and tangible, but also very important as well; and a 
period, moreover, which is seldom forgotten after being once 
enjoyed — or endured. That a good deal of the " courting '' 
which is ordinarily done by lovers is silly in itself, and looks 
supremely so to uninterested outsiders, we readily admit. But 
what of it, so long as it enters into, and constitutes one of the 
principal ingredients of the cup of human happiness? Some 
one has truly said that "he who is not foolish half of the time? 
is all," and there is much of philosophy and good sense wrap- 
ped up in the remark. We cannot be wise and profound^ 
grave and dignified all of the time, if we try. Washington 
Irving in his " Knickerbocker " describes some of those old 
Dutch Governors of New York as sitting on a judicial bench 
all day and rarely smiling or speaking, but those men, it must 
be remembered, were very fat, heavy and logy, and smoked 
and drank beer incessantly; and therefore can hardly be com- 
pared with the modern " live Yankee " inhabiting the country 
to-day. There is only one kind of bird that never indulges in 
fun, (so far as we know) and that is an owl ; the rest of them 
chipper and coo and make love to each other just as boys and 
22 



338 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

girls do, and seemingly enjoy it as much. We shall therefore 
only speak the truth when we aver that in the good, old- 
fashioned process of courtship as carried on between young 
men and maidens, — and between old ones also if they ever have 
occasion to repeat their love-experience— there lies a very large 
share of tangible comfort and genial enjoyment. 

In the first place, courtship is a great civilizing agency. 
Nothing ever takes the bashfulness and awkwardness out of 
a great, green, overgrown boy like the fiery ordeal of "going 
to see his girl," especially if any one else is " around " except 
the enamored pair. And nothing ever puts a young, unsophis- 
ticated girl on her mettle more than to properly receive and 
entertain her first youthful lover. The experience is some, 
times highly amusing to others, and often highly excruciating 
to the parties themselves; but the simple result and outcome 
of it all is, that it does them both good in more senses than 
one, and they both come out of it more matured in thought 
and feeling and better prepared for life than before they met. 
Charles Lamb has described an experience of this kind in verse 
which is too rich and true to life to pass by. — 

Ali ! I remember well (and how can I 

But evermore remember well) when first 

Our flame began, when scarce we knew what was 
The flame we felt; when as we sat and sighed 
And looked upon each other, and conceived 

Not what we ail'd — yet something we did ail ; 
And yet were well, and yet were not well, 
And what was our disease we could not tell. 

In this connection, we cannot do better than quote also 
Edmund Clarence Stedman's exquisite poem on the pleasures, 
trials and consequences of "seeing a girl home from meeting" 
in the country for the first time. The man or woman who 
can read it without interest, or without feeling a warm thrill 
run through his or her heart, even.ithough well on in years, 
has a nature, or has had an experience in life, which is legiti- 
mate matter for the exercise of pity. And the man or woman 
who cannot recall a similar experience in his or her own heart- 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 339 

history, is also to be commiserated as having never yet felt a 
species of joy which comes to the heart but once or rarely 
during a whole lifetime. 

The conference meeting through at last, 
We boys around the vestry waited 
To see the girls come tripping past 
Like snow-birds willing to be mated. 
Not braver he that leaps the wall 
By level musket-flashes bitten, 
Than I who stepped before them all 
Who longed to see me get the mitten. 

But no, she blushed and took my arm! 
We let the old folks have the highway, 
And started toward the Maple Farm 
Along a kind of lovers' by-way. 
I can't remember what we said, 
'Twas nothing worth a song or story 
Yet that rude path by which we sped 
Seemed all transformed and in a glory. 

The snow was crisp beneath our feet, 

The moon was full, the fields were gleaming; 

By hoocl and tippet sheltered sweet 

Her face with youth and health was beaming. 

The little hand outside her muff— 

O sculptor, if you could but mould it ! 

So lightly touched my jacket cuff, 

To keep it warm I had to hold it. 

At last we reached the foot-worn stone 

Where that delicious journey ended; * * * 

She shook her ringlets from her head 

And with a "Thank you, Ned," dissembled, 

For I was sure she understood 

With what a daring wish I trembled. 

A cloud passed kindly overhead, 

The moon was slily peeping through it; * * 

My lips till then had only known 

The kiss of mother and of sister, 

But somehow full upon her own 

Sweet, rosy, darling mouth — I kissed her! 

Perhaps 'twas boyish love, yet still, 
O listless woman! weary lover! 



340 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

To feel once more that fresh, wild thrill, 
I'd give — But who can live life over ? 

The pleasures of " love's young dream " usually come to the 
heart in its earlier years. A young man, for example, is 
busy with the plottings of ambition. He is trying to find 
out how to be great and distinguished by doing something 
which the long line of heroes, gone before, had never been 
able to accomplish. Up to a given time of his life he had 
looked down with scorn, it maybe, upon all exhibitions of the 
tender passion. But suddenly, in some unexpected nook or 
corner, or on some thronged street of the world, he meets a- 
fair face, the sight of which instantly holds him in thrall, as 
did the vision of the fairy frigate of Ellen Douglass which 
shot out from the shores of Loch Katrine, the heart of " Suow- 
doun's Knight and Scotland's King." He remembers that 
face — in fact, cannot forget it. It haunts his dreams and fully 
occupies his waking hours. He follows it, and makes the 
acquaintance of the " little divinity in pink " to whom it be- 
longs. Acquaintance ripens into friendship, and friendship 
culminates in love. 

And now a new light shines on that young man's path? 
new thoughts and projects, plans and hopes, come trooping 
through his brain. His whole ideal of life has been changed, 
and he now concludes that to be true and loving is infinitely 
higher, better, and sweeter, than simply 'uO be great. Shall we 
ask what is the matter with our young friend % What it is that 
leads him into reverie when alone; what gives new interest to 
a class of reading which had heretofore been wholly neglected \ 
what that fills his whole being at favored moments with rap- 
turous and intense delight? Ah! what can it be but " the old,, 
old story," ever old yet ever new, ever fresh and ever true ? 

Human nature being essentially the same, whether in man 
or in woman, we need not stop here to draw a companion pic- 
ture to the above, representing the state of things in the heart 
and life of the maiden who keeps our young friend company 
during this halcyon period of courtship. But we pass on to 
consider some of the graver aspects of this stage of youthful 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 341 

existence. It is altogether too true that much of the court- 
ship of ordinary young people is carried on under false colors 
and with a deliberate idea of deception in the mind of one 
or both of the parties. This of course is altogether wrong, 
absolutely unmanly and unwomanly, and very dangerous. 

The essential design of courtship is to furnish both parties 
with an opportunity of getting intimately acquainted with 
each other's characteristics and dispositions before the final 
word is spoken which bind them together for life. And to 
further this end, there must be perfect transparency of move- 
ment and actions, and perfect honesty of purpose and motive. 
During the period of courtship, the first wild flush of 
youthful love which has led to the mutual association, should 
strengthen, ripen, and consolidate into a sober attachment 
solid and enduring enough to form an adequate basis for mar- 
riage. Hence, great caution is needed here, and also the ex- 
ercise of the best judgment of both parties. Mistakes are 
easy and often lead to fatal results. 

Says the Eev. Dr. Wise, " When a young man feels a fond- 
ness arising in his mind for a young lady, he should hold it in 
•check until he can discover who and what she is. A lady 
wreathed in smiles and moving with cautious effort to con_ 
ceal defects of temper or of intellect, can soon acquire an irre- 
sistable influence over the mind of an attentive lover unless 
he is well on his guard. And it will be far better for him to 
stifle his affection at the beginning, if he discovers her unfit- 
ness to be his wife, than to go on heedlessly and bear the life- 
long agony of an imprudent marriage. In like manner, the 
paramount question with ev r ery young lady concerning the 
man who is paying her particular attentions should be, 'is he 
worthy of my love?' And her first aim should be to decide 
this question, carefully and honestly, by studying his charac- 
ter, observing his appearance and conduct, and inquiring into 
his history, standing and parentage." 

Of course, we are not so foolish and unreasonable as to sup- 
pose that every young man and woman, engaged in courtship, 
will not strive to appear " at their best " when in the company 



342. THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

of each other. This striving is both natural and inevitable 
and altogether harmless, provided that there is no deliberate 
intention to deceive. In this, as in all other cases, it is the 
purpose and motive which constitutes criminality. In fact, 
it would be impossible for real lovers not to appear at their 
best. Love acts as a mighty stimulant to all the powers of 
body, mind and heart, and any good person under its influ- 
ence will turn their best side outward as innocently and un- 
consciously as a flower opens its petals to the shining sun. 
Shakespere says in " Midsummer Night's Dream," that so 
strong is this power that 

Things base and vile, holding no quality, 
Love can transpose to form and dignity. 

And a little further on he declares that 

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, 
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. 

Hence the best, and almost the only time to correct mistakes 
in affection is at the beginning of courtship, before the passion 
by indulgence has become so strong and deep that a rupture 
of its ties would be attended with more danger and disaster,, 
than their continuance. 

One of the most singular and sensible specimens of court- 
ship correspondence which has come down to us is found in 
the letters of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, written to her 
lover previous to marriage. We acknowledge that to our lik- 
ing they are a trifle cool and business-like, yet the good sense 
and the entire absence of infatuation which they display, are 
altogether remarkable and very commendable. She says: — 
* * " If we marry, our happiness must consist in loving one 
another: 'tis principally my concern to think of the most 
probable method of making that love eternal. You object 
against living in London; I am not fond of it myself, and 
readily give it up to you, though I am assured there needs 
more art to keep a fondness alive in solitude, where it gen- 
erally preys upon itself. There is one article absolutely nee- 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 343 

essary — to be ever beloved, one must be ever agreeable. There 
is no such thing as being agreeable without a thorough good 
humor, a natural sweetness of temper, enlivened by cheerful- 
ness. Whatever natural funds of gaiety one is born with, 'tis 
necessary to be entertained with agreeable objects. Anybody 
capable of tasting pleasure, when they confine themselves to 
one place, should take care 'tis the place in the world the most 
agreeable. Whatever you may now think (now, perhaps, you 
have some fondness for me), though your love should continue 
in its full force, there are hours when the most beloved wife 
would be troublesome. People are not for ever (nor is it in 
human nature that they should be) disposed to be fond; you 
would be glad to find in me the friend and the companion. 

"To be agreeably the last, it is necessary to be gay and enter- 
taining. A perpetual solitude, in a place where you see 
nothing to raise your spirits, at length wears them out, and 
conversation insensibly falls into dull and insipid. When I 
have no more to say to you, you will like me no ' longer. 
How dreadful is that view! You will reflect, for my sake 
you have abandoned the conversation of a friend that you liked, 
and your situation in a country where all things would have 
contributed to make your life pass in a smooth tranquillity. 
I shall lose the vivacity which should entertain you, and you 
will have nothing to recompense you for what you have lost. 
"Very few people that have settled entirely in the country, but 
have grown at length weary of one another. The lady's con- 
versation generally falls into a thousand impertinent effects of 
idleness; and the gentleman falls in love with his dogs and his 
horses, and out of love with everything else. I am not now 
arguing' in favor of the town; you have answered me as to 
that point. In respect to your health, 'tis the first thing to 
be considered, and I shall never ask you to do anything inju- 
rious to that. But 'tis my opinion, if necessary to be happy, 
that we neither of us think anyplace more agreeable than that 
where we are." * * 

Again, writing on the same subject, she adds: — "Where 
people are tied for life, 'tis their mutual interest not to grow 



344 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

weary of one another. If I had all the personal charms that I 
want, a face is too slight a foundation for happiness. You 
would be soon tired with seeing every day the same thing. 
Where you saw nothing else, you would have leisure to remark 
all the delects: which would increase in proportion as the 
novelty lessened, which is always a great charm. I should 
have the displeasure of seeing a coldness, which, though I 
could not reasonably blame you for, being involuntary, yet it 
would render me uneasy; and the more, because I know a love 
may be revived which absence, inconstancy, or even infidelity 
has extinguished; but there is no returning from a flatness 
given by satiety." 

The story is told of a young man, paying particular atten- 
tions to a young lady, that he was invited into the parlor one day 
to wait her appearance. While there, a little sister some iive 
years old skipped in and said to him, " I wish you would stay 
here all the time, for when you are coming, sister begins to 
sing and be good, gives me cake and pie and anything I want; 
but when you are gone sister is not so good ; she gets mad 
and slaps and bangs me about." The revelation came just in 
time, for the young man took his hat and left before the fickle, 
deceiving siren had got ready to show herself, and never went 
there again. Served her right. 

It is an unpleasant fact — but a fact nevertheless — that many 
courtships and marriage ventures are not governed or carried 
on from motives of pure love at all, but rather by considera. 
tions of convenience, policy, property, social distinctions, and 
a hundred other kindred motives. Love, however, is the only 
natural and divinely-ordained basis on which such relationship 
can stand secure. And where this true love exists there need 
be no apprehension of failure in the carrying out of matri- 
monial designs, for love's mysterious alchemy, encountering 
impeding elements or obstacles, turns them all into gold, and 
so prepares the way for the crowning realization of its hopes. 
What a world of sorrow and pain and anguish of heart, of 
domestic, legal, and social difficulty would be avoided, if the 
little winged god could be allowed to maintain his place at the 
helm of every matrimonial craft all the voyage through! 



Fi 




HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 345 

But where baser natures predominate, arid young ladies are 
willing to barter themselves soul and body, for the uncertain 
emoluments of wealth, so long must they risk the consequen- 
ces of matrimonial failure, or unenviable notoriety, of more 
or less social scandal, and possibly of a secret heart-ache. The 
only effectual way of preventing social disasters is to elevate 
the nature and idea of courtship association; or, rather, to 
bring it back to its divine and original idea — to make it a 
matter of the heart, primarily and fundamentally, leaving all 
items of wealth, position, and the like, to be arranged as 
strictly secondary and subordinate details. Courtship or mar- 
riage, in any case, without love as the inspiring and controll- 
ing motive, is a gigantic blunder, a desperate expedient, an 
enormous social crime. Said Themistocles the wise Athenian 
ruler, " If compelled to choose, I would bestow my daughter 
upon a man without money, sooner than upon money without 
a man." And so would every other wise man. 

It is also usual' during this period of courtship for parties 
to enter into what is called a " marriage engagement." Is the 
practice to be commended? We think not for many reasons. 
The fact of such an engagement is the starting-point of innu- 
merable legal, domestic, and social difficulties. It leads to 
many law-suits for breach of promise in the courts. It often lets 
loose a deluge of scandal in regard to the parties. It offers a 
temptation to designing women to sue their disgusted lovers 
from a feeling of revenge, or to extort money from them un- 
justly. It sometimes leaves a stain upon the names of the 
parties which years may not efface. Again, what real or prac- 
tical good do these engagements do to either party, except to 
furnish a convenient hook, sometimes, on which to hang a 
suit in case of a failure of expectations? More than this 
what good have such engagements ever done, except to create, 
it may be, for the time being, a feeling of importance in the 
youthful mind while contemplating the existence of the bliss- 
ful bargain, and then again, it may be, to create a feeling of 
life-long sorrow over the unenviable notoriety gained when the 
bargain does not happen to hold good, all the journey through? 



346 THE IMPEEIAL HIGHWAY. 

Will it be urged, in reply, that such contracts between young 
single persons make the "courting business" more regular, 
normal and legitimate than it would otherwise be? Will it be 
said that such contracts have a binding force upon the parties 
involved, preventing them, after such a contract has been en- 
tered into, from giving any more loose rein to their fancy or 
affections; that it holds them to marriage and so makes it bet- 
ter both for them and for the world at large? Or will it be 
asserted that as no two persons can walk together unless they 
are agreed, this "engagement" is nothing more than such a 
necessary agreement put into form and shape; that it is sim- 
ply a mutual understanding arrived at by the persons inter- 
ested? 

If the latter point only were true, there were no need of dis- 
cussion; for a practice at once so harmless and so essential 
ought surely to be allowed to pass unchallenged. But every 
one knows there is vastly more than this in such a marriage 
engagement; that it has legal power and force; that it is con- 
sidered in a court as authoritative, valid and binding as an 
oath; and that thereby it prepares the way for an almost end- 
less amount of social and domestic trouble. It was not un- 
common in the days of our fathers and mothers for young- 
people to get the Bible down, place it between them, and over 
its hallowed covers vow eternal fidelity and love. And when 
such a transaction had taken place, the parties considered 
themselves as virtually bound to each other as though they had 
repeated the priestly rite before an altar "in the presence of 
God and these witnesses." 

It seems as though a moment's reflection would convince 
every candid mind that all the engagements in the world could 
never add a single jot or tittle to the force of true love; but 
on the other hand, that its inevitable tendency and power 
would be to abate love rather that increase or solidify it, 
Nothing is so entirely impatient of all force and restraint as 
human affection. The least suspicion of anything which acts 
as a fetter or chain, is enough to take the heart out of all love 
instantly, and force it, like an angry tide, against the barrier 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 347 

which obstructs its path. Love and freedom are twin-born 
passions, and are usually found in mutual companionship. 
But, whenever the idea of compulsion is brought to bear upon 
human love, then the character of that love begins to change 
at once, and the power of it begins to weaken in the heart. 

Who knows the amount of domestic social misery which 
has been occasioned by the simple fact of these marriage en- 
gagements becoming irksome and galling to one or the other 
of the parties, before the happy day had been fixed? How 
many breach of promise suits have originated primarily in 
this feeling of compulsion? The thought enters the mind 
some day as carelessly, perhaps, as a thistle down floats into 
the window at summer-time; but it lodges, it remains, it ger- 
minates, grows, becomes rooted, brings forth fruit which sev- 
ers hearts, disunites households, makes a noise, starts a report, 
leaves a permanent blight on one side or the other. 

We are persuaded it would be better for all parties concerned 
if none of these binding engagements were entered into at all^ 
If a young man and woman love each other well enough to 
marry, and so express themselves to each other, let the mutual 
understanding which such an expressson of feeling will inva- 
riably create, be always accompanied by another mutual un- 
derstanding to the effect that whenever either party desires to 
be released from these silken bonds and this implied agree- 
ment, there is and shall be up to the very day of marriage the 
most perfect liberty to carry such a desire into effect. The 
only marriage engagement in the world worth a straw is the 
one founded upon, cemented by, and built up into an ever- 
growing attachment in the heart. Such a proviso, inserted 
into every marriage contract, would take away all idea of com- 
pulsion, promote a feeling of freedom within, and instantly 
stop all talk and scandal if the parties saw fit to separate be- 
fore the act of marriage took place. It would also stop all 
suits at law over broken promises and vows, and still further 
prevent whole oceans of scandal from being emptied, every 
now and then, into the social arena of life. Moreover, the 



34:8 



THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



existence of such a proviso would tend to make young ladies 
more chary of their matrimonial secrets, more reticent con- 
cerning their designs, less liable to make a parade of rings 
upon a certain finger of the left hand, and not half so bold in 
purchasing and then boasting of their elaborate and elegant 
trousseaux. 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 349 



CHAPTEE TIL 

Marriage. 

If that thy bent of love be honorable, 

Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow, 

And all my fortunes at thy feet I'll lay, 

And follow thee, my lord, throughout the world. 

Komeo and Juliet. 

Never wedding, ever wooing, 
Still a love-lorn heart pursuing, 
Read you not the wrong you're doing 

In my cheek's pale hue ? 
All my life with sorrow strewing — 

Wed, or cease to woo. 

Thos. Campbell. 

Happy they — the happiest of their kind — 
Whom gentler stars unite, and in one fate 
Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend. 

Thomson's Seasons. 

Fom the beginning of the creation, God made them male and female; 
and for this cause shall a man leave his father and mother and shall cleave 
to his wife ; and they twain shall be one flesh. 

Make, x; 6, 7. 

C will be seen from the biblical quotation just given, 
what was the original design of God with reference to 
v men and women in this world. And from this crea- 
tive purpose, as from a primordial cell-germ, there has been 
evolved on the one hand, love, which is the best of all human 
experiences; courtship, which is like unto it in flavor and 
quality; marriage, which is the consummate fruitage of love's 
growth; connubial and parental felicity, which is the "only 
bliss of paradise that has survived the fall;" sweet and blessed 




350 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

companionship in life, than which there can be no greater 
privilege this side of heaven; and congenial soul-union, which 
is the perfection of earthly joy. "While from out this same 
original design as from a Pandora-box of evil, there has flowed 
on the other hand, personal antipathy, ripening into positive 
hatred; deception; forced wedlock, which is but an open hell; 
ill-assorted unions; unmated and wretched hearts; divorce; 
cruelty; blighting shame or consuming grief; madness and 
murder ! F. W. Robertson was right when he said " there 
are two rocks in this world of ours on which all souls must 
either anchor or be wrecked — one is God, and the other is the 
sex opposite." In other words, religion and marriage are two 
of the most fundamental and most important interests of life. 
Comparing life to a passage o'er a restless flood, marriage 
is like a suspension-bridge which spans the torrent; and over 
this structure the long train of humanity has ever walked 
with joyful or weary feet. Do not be frightened, reader, at 
the somewhat sombre opening of this chapter. We shall not 
intentionally conjure up frightful ogres to discourage you 
from fulfilling your " manifest destiny," neither shall w T e know- 
ingly paint the picture of married life as all sunshine and flow- 
ers; for neither delineation would be true to fact. In this 
state, as in all others, there is a mixture of pleasure and pain, 
joy and sorrow. In other words, marriage is a " Bitter- Sweet," 
with the sweet predominating, if the proper conditions are 
observed. Longfellow is entirely right when he says 

As the cord unto the bow is, 
So is woman unto the man: 
Useless each without the oJher. 

In childhood days, the young girls at school are wont to 
form a circle and go round and round repeating in chorus the 
well-worn lines, 

"The happiest life that ever was led, 
Is always to court and never to wed ;" 

and judging from the actions of many children of a larger 
growth now, the same sentiment is quite extensively cher- 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 351 

ished. There is many a pert young Miss (and now and then a 
pert old one, also,) who declares with a species of bitter dis- 
dain that 

"The hour of marriage ends the female reign, 
And we give all we have to buy a chain ; 
Hire men to be our lords, who were our slaves, 
And bribe our lovers to be perjured knaves. 

But these are among that large and growing number of 
female butterflies who had rather continue to bask in a lover's 
smiles and attentions, than assume the responsibilities and 
cares of a permanent married state. These stoutly aver that 
"she that takes the best of husbands puts on a golden fetter; 
for husbands are like painted fruit which promise much, but 
still deceive us when we come to try them." And then, grow- 
ing bolder with outspoken contempt, they sometimes loudly 
proclaim that 

"Wedlock's a saucy sad, familiar state, 
Where folks are very apt to scold and hate ; 
While love, kept at distance, is divine, 
Obliging, and says everything that's fine." 

But on the other hand, there are many more true and noble 
women who would echo the words of Mrs. Hemans when she 
writes thus of her husband: 

I bless thee for the noble heart, 

The tender and the true, 
Where mine hath found the happiest rest 

That e'er fond woman's knew : 
I bless thee, faithful friend and guide, 

For my own, my treasured share 
In all the secrets of thy soul, 

Thy sorrows and thy care. 

I bless thee for kind looks and words 

Showered on my path like clew; 
For all the love in those deep eyes, 

A gladness ever new ! 
For the voice which ne'er to mine replied 

But in kindly tones of cheer ; 
For every spring of happiness 

My soul hath tasted here. 



352 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

Or again with another they would acknowledge that " the 
tying of two in wedlock is as the tuning of two lutes in one 
key; one cannot be delighted, but the other rejoice th." They 
would joyfully declare that "marriage, rightly understood, 
gives to the tender and the good, a paradise below." 

Still, it cannot be denied that the hour when a young couple 
stand up before the altar and take upon themselves vows and 
promises which can end, properly and lawfully, only with the 
life of one of the parties, is as solemn as it is interesting. 
Both are inexperienced in the ways of the world, and both are 
ignorant of the thousand trials and perplexities of the life be- 
fore them, and yet both are so confiding and trustful, and so 
full of hope, anticipation, and joy, that it seems to them, in 
their blindness, that nothing can ever shake their settled bliss. 
But what makes the father and mother and intimate friends 
often weep at these wedding festivals? Mrs. Hemans says, 

Holy and pure are the drops that fall 
When the young bride goes from the father's hall 
For she goes unto love untried and new, 
And parts from love which hath aye been true. 

What makes the aged spectators weep? It is doubtless 
mingled recollection and anticipatory foreboding. It is the 
knowledge of future contingencies and possibilities which has 
been gained, perchance, by bitter experience. The old people 
know, if the young couple does not, that "honeymoons" are 
generally short-lived, and after the calm frequently comes a 
storm. 

It is probably true that the majority of young people enter 
upon the married state with altogether too high and extrava- 
gant notions about what they are to experience and enjoy in 
this new sphere of life. As love is largely ideal in its nature, 
the imagination often carries away captive all the more solid and 
sober faculties of the mind, and feeds the two smitten souls 
with a sweet compound of fancies and phantoms, "cooked to a 
turn, and nicely seasoned." But even this temporary delusion 
is one of the kindly provisions of nature and should always 
be accounted such. 



HArPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 353 

"When the altar of religion 

Greets the expectant hridal pair, 

And the vow that lasts till dying 

Vibrates on the sacred' air ; 

When man's lavish protestations 

Doubts of after-change defy, 

Comforting the fairer spirit 

Bound his servitor for aye; 

When beneath love's silver moonbeams 

Many rocks in shadow sleep 

Undiscovered, till possession 

Shares the dangers of the deep — 

It is well we cannot see 
What the end will be." 

It is not to be denied that there is more or less of disap- 
pointment and consequent unhappiness in married life, but so 
there is in unmarried life, as well. No condition or position 
is free from vexations and crosses, trials and sorrows, for 
these are the common lot of all. But much of the prevailing 
married misery of our time is self-caused and altogether need- 
less. In the olden time, before people got so crazy in this 
country over imaginary prospects of suddenly getting rich 
and great by lucky investments or profitable speculations; 
before all became so deeply dissatisfied with ordinary homes, 
moderate incomes and limited opportunities; before sham and 
shoddy and braggadocio became the order of the day, boys 
and girls used to grow up healthily, love each other naturally 
and fervently, marry sensibly, live happily, and die peacefully; 
leaving behind them large families and a fair competence 
in the way of accumulated savings. But now everybody 
seems to be trying to tear in pieces all that the past has built 
up, and are putting nothing in its place. As a natural con- 
sequence, amidst the general upheaval, home, the family, and 
married life, have suffered fearfully and are yet suffering. 
Divorces, separations, scandals and murders multiply on every 
hand. 

But the prevailing causes of such a state of things is found 
not in marriage or married life per se, but in the general 
state of the country, the wide diffusion of false ideas, the 
23 



354 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

universal condition of restlessness, uneasiness and morbid dis- 
satisfaction with everything and everybody, self included, and 
in the increasing number of unwise matches. The number 
of pairs yoked in unsympathetic wedlock is always large. 
All marriages in which the strength of fleshly passion is the 
predominating motive, are liable to prove disastrous — and the 
number of these is always enormous. All marriages where 
one party continues to grow and the other to depreciate, men- 
tally or morally, will surely bring about a state of unhappi- 
ness in the course of time. All marriages in which one or 
both parties have been grossly deceived, are liable to the same 
fatal termination. 

Neither is it to be denied that the man or woman who finds 
himself or herself tied up for life to the companionship of 
one with whom there can be, owing to diversity of nature, 
no real congeniality or sympathy, is an object of sincerest 
commiseration. To be compelled to live with one you can- 
not thoroughly respect and esteem, as well as love, (for all true 
love is grounded in esteem); to inwardly loathe the presence 
and sight of one and still be forced by inexorable vows to 
associate with him or her; to feel degraded by such associa- 
tion and not be able to break it off, is a species of refined 
torture and agony of spirit which can hardly be surpassed in 
the infernal regions. To sit by, imprisoned in heart andjmind, 
and see the thronging multitudes around, and know that 
among them there are many whom you could love, purely and 
devotedly, if you were only free to do so; to realize that life 
is becoming a failure through the sad consequences of an early 
mistake which cannot be rectified, is to produce in actual life 
a literal embodiment of the mythical story of Tantalus. 

Under such circumstances it becomes an interesting ques- 
tion how much may prison-bound husbands and wives love 
their friends and associates without trespassing upon the 
sanctity of each other's rights, or breaking over the line of 
decorum and lawfulness. Of course the temptation to believe 
in the doctrine of free-love, in such a position, is very great^ 
but no pure heart would entertain such a thought for a mo- 



HAPriNESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 355 

ment. Right tlirougli this little open door, however, comes in 
that domestic fiend, jealousy, whom the old English poets and 
dramatists sought to kill by piercing it with such dagger-like 
epithets as " a canker-worm," "a green-eyed monster," the 
" daughter of envy," a " subtle liar," a "pale hag," an "in- 
fernal fury," a "merciless destroyer," a "false seducer of 
hearts," a "yellow-tinging plague," and "the ugliest fiend 
of hell." 

This feeling of domestic and family exclusiveness is always 
most unreasonable among those of least intelligence, least re- 
finement, and least general culture. As a general rule, (with 
notable exceptions of course) the finer the nature, the better 
the breeding, the more cultivated the taste of a person, the 
less inclined is he or she to jealous exactions of a partner in 
this respect. It would seem that the words of the highest 
moral authority in the universe ought to be sufficient in re- 
gard to this matter, but still the fact remains that they are 
not. We allude, to that broad and comprehensive command 
of the Saviour that each one should " love his neighbor as him- 
self, and should do unto others as he would have others do 
unto him." This command, we think, rightly interpreted 
and properly applied, would cover this question entirely. 

Marriage and married life were never designed to be an in- 
strument for promoting or increasing in the world the ac- 
cursed spirit of human selfishness. If it were so designed, it 
would be a curse instead of a blessing. 

A home should not be guarded like a Turkish harem by the 
iealous eye of either husband or wife. Neither should one's 
entire thought or affection be confined within its walls. To 
insist on this Is to make the world more wretched than it 
naturally is, or need be. What the society of to-day wants 
more than any other one thing that can be mentioned, is more 
cosmopolitan love, more general disinterested regard, more 
universal affection among its different members; and were 
this bestowed with greater freedom, there would not be as 
many barren, desolate spots in life's journey, nor so many 
weary, aching, starved hearts. Every one, in normal mood 



356 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

or condition, wants to be loved, and every one ought to be 
loved. Love is the celestial pabulum of the soul's life, and 
without it men and women pine, wither, or become hardened 
and reckless. 

Some entirely impracticable people are always saying that 
married folks should bestow upon each other the same deli- 
cate and unwearied attentions through life, that they did 
during the courtship period. This is good advice if it could 
be carried out. Many couples are already so far estranged 
from each other that any attempt at a resuscitation of the 
"former things," would be both awkward and annoying, and 
might possibly increase dislike, instead of drawing together 
in closer friendship and more loving harmony. A safer rule 
therefore is that both strive to adjust themselves to their new 
relationships, rather than try to perpetuate a state that has 
passed away. In one sense a married pair can be lovers still; 
but in another more important and more fundamental aspect* 
they never can be lovers again. The Rubicon of uncertainty 
is past, and they are yoked or mated for life; and they must 
now bend their united energies to the prosecution of their 
appropriate life-work. They must take no backward steps,. 
but push on in thought, in feeling, in endeavor. Accordingly 
let both strive to be married lovers, rather than unmarried 
ones. As " Hudibras " Butler says : 

All love at first, like generous wine, 
Ferments and frets until 'tis fine, 
But when 'tis settled on the lee, 
And from the impurer matter free, 
Becomes the richer still, the older. 

Moore also echoes the same thought thus : 

Although my heart in earlier youth 
Might kindle with more wild desire, 
Believe me, it has gained in truth 
Much more than it has lost in fire. 

On the other hand, neither the husband nor the wife can 
safely say to himself or herself: "Now that I am married, I 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 357 

liave nothing more to do with the matter of love. Those days 
are past, and I must now give attention to sterner duties and 
cares." To say this, or to feel this, is to inaugurate, sooner 
or later, a reign of domestic misery. Particularly disastrous 
will it prove, if the wife assumes this attitude of mind. She 
is the ordained Priestess of Love in every home. She is shel- 
tered and protected by her home, while the husband is daily 
exposed to the rough-and-tumble, debauching, petrifying in. 
fluences of the outside business world. And as, before mar- 
riage, the husband took the initiative in all acts of affection, 
she being compelled by her nature to receive rather than give, 
so now that relations have changed, duties and actions should 
change also. She need feel no longer any maiden restraint, 
but should at once come forward and take her place as love's 
High Priest, and make her home a sanctuary of peace, happi- 
ness and quiet order. And instead of sinking down or giving 
back in thought, feeling, or endeavor, she should advance to 
new conquests and to higher planes of excellence and attain- 
ment until, in her husband's soul, a deep and thorough esteem 
a profound and genuine regard, fills the place formerly occu- 
pied by the fiercer fires of zeal. My lady readers may not 
relish the statement, but we believe, nevertheless, that upon 
the internal attitude and external conduct of the wife, depends 
the pleasure and success of married life more than upon all 
other influences combined. Because 

" Man's love is of man's life a thing, a part, 
But 'tis woman's whole existence." 

It requires indeed a great deal of attention, care, prudence, 
watchfulness, foresight, quick intuition and good, strong, com- 
mon sense to keep the married state healthful, invigorating 
and joyous, during a long term of years. Light causes often 
move dissensions between hearts that love. 

" Hearts that the world in vain had tried, 
And sorrow but more closely tied ; 
That stood the storm when waves were rough, 



358 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

Yet, in a sunny hour, fall off, 

Like ships that have gone down at sea, 

When heaven was all tranquillity." 

Especially will this be true if, from any cause, the terrible 
scourge of jealousy be allowed to enter heart or home. When 
this comes in, love usually goes out. There is not a single re- 
deeming side or feature to this fell passion of human nature, 
for its root is a morbid and exacting self-love, rather than love 
for the other, as is sometimes alleged by way of its justification. 
Therefore, let every married couple avoid it as they would the 
coming of yellow fever or the devil. After this passion is 
once aroused the bright altar-flame which once leaped from 
heart to eyes, and spread itself like the crimson glow of sun- 
rise all over the countenance, dies down and burns lower and 
lower until there is left but the chilled and cheerless cinders of 
an extinct funeral pyre. The heart is dead and cold, or changed 
to an instrument of self-torture and intense hate. Then life 
becomes an intolerable burden to be shaken off at the first 
convenient opportunity through suicide, or is converted into a 
suppressed volcano whose internal fury and wrath are liable 
at any time to burst forth in flames of cruelty, desertion, or 
murder. 

Yet, after all this, more mutual love and more marriages 
are among the great wants of our time. The darkest side 
of our present social life lies in the direction of this want. 
Young men and maidens are not marrying as fast as is good 
and healthful for public morality and social virtue. Pure,. 
happy, industrious homes constitute the nucleus of both 
Church and State, and a peaceful, united pair is the only nor- 
mal, divinely-established and perfectly rounded unit of human- 
ity, and the only true center and source of all that makes life 
valuable or earth blessed. 

As good Bishop Taylor says: "If you are for pleasure, 
marry; if you prize rosy health, marry. A good wife is 
Heaven's last and best gift to man; his angel of mercy. Her 
voice is his sweetest music: her smiles, his brightest day; her 
kiss, the guardian of his innocence; her industry, his surest 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 359 

weal tli ; her economy, his safest steward; her lips, his faithful 
counselors; her bosom, his softest pillow; her prayers his 
ablest advocate at Heaven's court." Therefore, reader, think 
of some familiar picture of old bachelorhood or maidenhood 
life with which you are acquainted, and then look on this pic- 
ture of married life: — 

" Dainty Mabel full of grace, 

With her bright and smiling face, 

Dances lightly 'cross the floor, 

Opens wide the outer door. 

For she hears above the blast 

Of the Storm-King sweeping past- 
Hears a welcome, well-known step — 

Hears a voice cry: "Ah, my pet!'* 

Safely sheltered from the storm, 

By the "fireside bright and warm, 
, With his arms about her pressed, 

With her head upon his breast, 

Softly says he : "Ah Ma-Belle 

How I love you, none can tell. 

What have I to fear in life 

While I hold my darling wife ? " 

Slow she answers, with a sigh: 
" When the years, in passing by, 

Shall dim the lustre of my eye, 

When I make you dull replies, 

Will your love grow dead and cold? 

Will you love me when I'm old?" 

Stroking now her drooping head, 

Low and gently Robin said : 
" Well I know the hand of Time 

Will whiten both your hair and mine; 

But together we will share 

Every joy and every care ; 
' Then as now will rise above 

Thanks for thee, my darling love." 

Now the curtains downward drop, 

The fire burns low, the lights are out, 

They have gone to peaceful rest. 

And the angels, hovering near, 

Drop, methinks, a silent tear 

O'er the holiest thing in life — 

A happy husband, happy wife." 



360 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

Then after due consideration say if you do not conclude with 
Shakespere that — 

Earlier happy is the rose distilled, 

Than that which, withering on the virgin thorn, 

Grows, lives, and dies, in single blessedness. 

Franklin, in writing to a newly-married friend, said: — "I 
am glad you are married, and congratulate you most cordially 
upon it. You are now in the way of becoming a useful citizen, 
and you have escaped the unnatural state of celibacy for life — 
the fate of many here who never intended it, but who, having 
too long postponed the change of their condition, find at length 
that it is too late to think of it, and so live all their lives in a 
situation that greatly lessens a man's value. An odd volume 
of a set of books bears not the value of its proportion to the 
set. What think you of the odd half of a pair of scissors? It 
can't well cut anything; it may possibly serve to scrape a 
trencher." 

Jeremy Taylor says: — "Marriage has in it less of beauty, 
but more safety, than the single life. It hath not more ease, 
but less danger; it is more merry and more sad; it is fuller of 
sorrows and fuller of joys; it lies under more burdens, but it 
is supported by all the strength of love and charity, and those 
burdens are delightful. Marriage is the mother of the world 
and preserves kingdoms, and fills cities and churches and 
heaven itself. Celibacy, like the fly in the heart of the apple, 
dwells in perpetual sweetness, but sits alone, and is confined, 
and dies in singularity; but marriage, like the useful bee, 
builds a house and gathers sweetness from every flower, labors 
and unites into societies and republics, sends out colonies and 
feeds the world with delicacies, obeys the king and keeps order, 
and exercises many virtues, and promotes the interest of man- 
kind; 'tis that state of good to which God hath designed the 
present condition of the world." 

Pope thus speaks of the pleasures of married life: — 

Oh happy state! when souls each other draw, 
When love is libeity, and nature law; 
All then is full, possessing and possessed, 



il 1 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 361 

No craving void left aching in the breast ; 

E'en thought meets thought, ere from the lips it part 

As each warm wish springs mutual from the heart. 

"Live in a palace withoftt woman," says Douglas Jerrold, 

tis but a place to shiver in. Whereas, take oft* the house- 
top, break every window, make the doors creak, the chimneys 
smoke, give free entry to the sun, wind, rain — still will a wife 
make the hovel habitable; nay, bring the little household gods 
crowding about the tire-place." 

Sir Thomas Bernard says: — "Of all temporal and worldly 
enjoyments, the marriage union with a congenial mind, ani- 
mating a pleasing frame, is by far the greatest." Johnson 
writes: — " Marriage is the strictest tie of perpetual friendship, 
and there can be no friendship without confidence, and no con- 
fidence without integrity; and he must expect to be wretched 
who pays to beauty, riches, or politeness, that regard which 
only virtue and piety can claim. . . . Marriage has many 
pains, but celibacy no pleasures," 

"I have noticed," says Washington Irving, " that a married 
man, falling into misfortune, is more apt to retrieve his situa- 
tion in the world than a single one, chiefly because his spirits 
are softened and relieved by domestic endearments, and self- 
respect kept alive by finding that although all abroad be dark- 
ness and humilitation, yet still there is a little world of love at 
home of which he is monarch; whereas a single man is apt to 
run to waste and self-neglect, to fall to ruin, like a deserted 
mansion, for want of inhabitants. Those disasters which break 
down the spirit of man, and prostrate him in the dust, seem to 
call forth all the energies of the softer sex, and give such in- 
trepidity and elevation to their character, that at times it 
approaches to sublimity." 

And so we will sum up the whole matter by saying that — 

" The man who weds a loving wife 
Whate'er betide him in this life, 
Shall bear up under all ; 
But he that finds an evil mate, 
No good can come within his gate, 
His cup is filled with gall." 



362 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



CHAPTER YIIL 

Husband and Wife. 

Husbands, love your wives. Wives, submit yourselves to your husbands 

The Bible. 

Know then, 
As wives owe a duty— so do men. 
Men must be like the branch and bark to trees 
Which doth defend them from tempestuous rage, 
Clothe them in winter, tender them in age. 
If it appears to them they've strayed amiss, 
They only must rebuke them with a kiss. 

Wilkins. 

Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, 

Thy head, thy sovereign ; one that cares for thee 

And for thy maintenance; commits his body 

To painful labor both by sea and land, 

While thou stayest warm at home, secure and safe ; 

And craves no other tribute at thy hands 

But love, fair looks, and true obedience. 

Shakespere. 

For nothing lovelier can be found 
In woman than to study household good 
And good works in her husband to promote. 

Milton. 

The shrewd wife is 
One who ne'er answers till her husband cools, 
Or if she rules him never shows she rules ; 
Charms by accepting, by submitting sways, 
Yet has her humor most when she obeys. 

Pope. 

Husband, husband, cease your strife, 

No longer idly rave sir; 
Though I am your wedded wife, 

Yet 1 am not your slave, sir. 

Burns 



IIA.PPLNESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 363 

My wife, my life ! O we will walk this world 
Yoked in all exercise of noble aim. 

Tennyson 

All day, like some sweet bird content to sing 
In its small cage, she moveth to and fro, 
And ever and anon will upward spring 
To her sweet lips, fresh from the fount below, 
The murmured melody of pleasant thought ; 
Light household duties evermore inwrought 
With pleasant fancies of one trusting heart 
That lives but in her smile, and ever turns 
To be refreshed where one pure altar burns — 
Shut out from hence the mockery of life, 
Thus liveth she content, the meek, fond, trusting wife. 

Mrs. E. Oakes Smith. 




E will suppose now that the words have been spoken 
at the bridal altar which bind heart to heart and life 
to life, until "death do them part." By this simple 
ceremony, properly performed, those who were formerly 
twain, have now become "one flesh." The relations of the 
parties to each other instantly changed when they crossed 
the threshhold of the married state. They are no longer 
lovers, in the sense they were before marriage, they are no 
longer courting each other, in the old sense of the word; 
but they both step up, by the act of marriage, on to a new, 
a higher, and more permanent plane of life than they ever 
before occupied. They take their place among other men and 
women as a newly-formed unit of humanity's vast aggregate 
of families and homes. They become in the eye of the law 
the nucleus of a separate and independent domestic establish- 
ment. Henceforth, they are to be known to each other and 
to all around, not as two single individuals of uncertain age 
and civil standing, but as a definite, legal pair with common 
interests and wants. 

The life upon which the young husband and wife have now 
entered, is essentially a new life; and the happiness which it 
is intended to bring to the hearts and minds of both, is de. 
pendent largely upon the observance of certain common-sense 
rules or maxims. Of course, every youthful couple enter 



364 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

upon married life with the most roseate and fondest expecta- 
tions. The period of early love and courtship is, to a great 
extent, one wherein the imagination runs riot and a species 
of fanciful delusion is the inevitable consequence. This delu- 
sion, however, is an entirely blissful experience, and, in our 
belief, entirely Providential in character and design. 

" When the youth beside the maiden 

Looks into her credulous eyes, 

And the heart upon the surface 

Shines too happy to be wise ; 

He by speeches less than gestures 

Hintelh what her hopes expound, 
Laying out the waste hereafter 
Like enchanted garden-ground — 

It is well they cannot see 
What the end shall be:" 

as, in many cases, if they did or could see, they would proba- 
'bly shrink back affrighted and refuse to go any farther in 
that path of mingled joy and sorrow which all are destined 
to tread. 

Consequently, marriage will always be more or less of a 
surprise or a revelation to husband, wife, or both. In other 
words, they will very likely get disenchanted before many 
months go by, and it will not be at all strange or peculiar if 
one or both feel a little disappointed over the whole affair. 
As Dr. Johnson truly observes, " the whole endeavor of both 
parties, during the time of courtship, is frequently to hinder 
themselves from being known ; to disguise their natural tem- 
per and real desires in hypocritical imitation, studied com- 
pliance, and continued affectation. From the time that their 
love was avowed, neither see the other but in a mask; and 
the cheat is managed often on both sides with so much art, 
and discovered afterwards with so much abruptness, that each 
has reason to suspect that some transformation has happened, 
and that by a strange imposture, as in the case of Jacob, one 
has been courted and another married." 

Well, let it be so; this is not the only disappointment you 
will experience in life's journey, and it will be no worse or 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 365 

harder to bear than others which are sure to follow. It will 
be wise, therefore, to regulate your anticipations, if you can, 
and not expect too much from the union. Married lite under 
any conditions is not all roses and honeymoon. There are 
stern realities connected with it which must be met, and some 
thorns will be found concealed beneath the rose-leaves, and 
some bitter ingredients will get mixed with the sweet ones in 
the cup of its joy. Quaint old Thomas Fuller says; — ''Mar- 
riage is not like the hill Olympus, wholly clear, without 
clouds. Rather expect both wind and storms sometimes, 
which, when blown over, the air is the clearer and wholesomer 
for them. Make account of certain cares and troubles which 
will attend thee." 

Still it will do no hurt to make up your mind to be happy y 
and resolve to increase each others happiness in every possible 
way. Happiness, l>ke every other earthly good, costs some- 
thing; hence it is a legitimate object of inquiry with every 
married couple how to preserve the love and perpetuate the 
comfort that fell to their lot when their acquaintance first 
began. Never cultivate a habit of fault-finding. Praise the 
virtues, rather than look for trie failings of each other, and 
beware of the first dispute. Mutual forbearance can never 
come amiss, as 

"The kindest and the happiest pair 

Will find occasion to forbear, 

And something every day they live 

To pity, and perhaps forgive." 

Mary is never quite an angel, and John is not wholly im- 
maculate. Perfection belongs not to earth, and if love is 
blind, it should be blind to unavoidable faults in human char- 
acter. When Matthew Henry, the commentator, was married, 
his father, Philip Henry, sent the newly-wedded pair the fol- 
lowing piece of advice, which no doubt will be useful to others 
at the present day: — 

"Love one another ; pray oft together : and see 
You never both together angry be : 



366 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

If one speaks fire, t'other with water come ; 
Is one provoked ? he t'other soft or dumb." 

Mutual happiness can only be enjoyed by mutual forbear- 
ance, mutual comfort, mutual strength, mutual guidance, 
mutual trust; common principles, common duties, common 
burdens, common aims, common hopes, common joys. 

Above all things, don't go abroad to speak of each other's 
frailties; a husband or a wife ought not to speak of the other's 
faults to any but themselves. Says quaint old Fuller: "Jars 
concealed are half reconciled ; while, if generally known, 'tis a 
double task to stop the breach at home and men's mouths 
abroad." Hitches will occur, but many bad results may be 
avoided by a resolution well kept on both sides to cloak and 
forgive offences — to say with Milton: — 

Let us no more contend, nor hlame 

Each oilier, blamed enough elsewhere; but strive 

In offices of love how each may lighten 

The other's burden in our share of woe. 

The skill to wound and the skill to cure are very different 
things. The tirst is most cultivated and the last is least ap- 
preciated among married people. Family life will claim every 
day some little sacrifice. It is only thus that true love can 
exist, for wherever the spirit of selfishness is allowed to take 
its place, discord will assuredly follow. 

There should always be an endeavor on the part of each to 
adapt self to the temper and characteristics of the other. In 
fact, to the extent of this mutual adaptation, will lie the 
measure of the mutual enjoyment. Says Goldsmith: 

How small of all that human hearts endure 

That part which laws or kings can cause or cure I 

Still to ourselves in every place consign'd, 

Our own felicity we make or find : 

With secret course, which no loud storms annoy, 

Glides the smooth current of domestic joy. 

And another has well added: 

"The gentle offices of patient love, 
Beyond all flattery and a price above; 
The mild forbearance at a brother's fault, 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 367 

The angry word suppressed, the taunting thought; 

Subduing and subdued, the petty strife 

Which clouds the color of domestic life : 

The sober comfort, all the peace which springs 

From the large aggregate of little things; 

On these small cares of daughter, wife, or friend, 

The almost sacred joys of home depend." 

Married people should also be mutually respectful to each 
other. For if man is at the head of the household, yet the 
wife is the crown of her husband, and as each supplies what 
the other lacks, each is as good in his or her place as the other. 
Such being the case, let due honor be given to each other on all 
occasions. Many wait for some great opportunity to exhibit 
this respect, forgetting that the happiness of life is made up 
of every- day duties. 

Married people should also confide in each other. Said 
Lord Bolingbroke: — "If I was making up a plan of conse- 
quence, I should like first to consult with a sensible woman." 
Many a man has been sa^ed from disastrous speculations by 
consulting his wife; many a man has been ruined by the wife 
allowing some other person's judgment to interfere between 
her and her husband. Never listen to any one for a moment 
who whispers, "Don't tell your wife" or "husband." You 
ought not to be ashamed to consult one another upon any 
step that is to be taken. Therefore be frank with one another; 
for let a man think what he may, his wife's counsel is worth 
seeking. She will often see what is right, and actually do it, 
before the husband has finished his deliberations; or, as an- 
other says — "When a man has toiled step by step up a flight 
of stairs, he will be sure to find a woman at the top, but she 
will not be able to tell how she got there." Women, we are 
told, " jump to conclusions," and it is true. The wife can 
"take stock" of a man in a moment, and if she warns you 
against any one, depend upon it as a rule she will be right. 
A woman has a special instinct in this respect. Indeed, the 
intuitive judgments of women are often more to be re- 
lied upon than the conclusions which men reach by an elab- 
orate process of reasoning. 



368 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

Besides these mutual duties of married life, there are special 
duties belonging to husband and wife separately. Thus it is 
the special duty of the husband to provide for the proper sup- 
port of his wife. ^Vhen a man's work is done and his wages 
are in his hand, he should not squander them. Nothing is so 
detrimental to home happiness as the habit of living in con- 
tinual want. As N. P. Willis says, 

True love is at home on a carpet, 
And mightily likes his ease, 
And has a good eye for a dinner, 
But starves beneath shady trees. 

Household expenses should never exceed the income, and it 
is worth an effort to keep them below it. By doing this you 
will save one frequent source of trouble between husband 
and wife, namely expense. Instead of a nice, tidy, cheerful 
little house, with its bit of garden, its comfortable parlor, and 
all the means of bringing up a family so as to set them on 
respectably in life, and put the chance of wealth and influence 
within their reach, many men are content to muddle on in a 
wretched hovel, letting the poor wife slave, and the children 
roll and fight in the gutters. 

Again, it is the special duty of the husband to prefer his 
home and seek to make it attractive. The love of home is 
generally a test of character. When a man spends his spare 
time mostly away from home, it implies something bad, and 
points to something worse. Many a wife has occasion to utter 
a complaint on this score something like the following: 

"You took me, William, when a girl, unto your home and heart, 
To bear in all your after-tate a fond and failhful part; 
And I would rather share your tear than any other's glee, 
For though you're nothing to the world, you're all the world to me. 
There's sunlight for me in your smiles and music in your tone; 
I look upon you when you sleep — my eyes with tears grow dim, 
I cry, 'O Parent of the poor, look down from heaven on him ; 
Behold him toil from day to day, exhausting strength and soul!' 
And when at last relieving sleep has on my eyelids smiled, 
How oft are they forbade to close in slumber by our child ? 
I take the little murmurer that spoils my span of rest, 
And feel it is a part of thee I lull upon my breast. 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 3(39 

There's only one return I crave, I may not nerd it long, 

And it may soothe thee when I'm where the wretched feel no wrong: 

I ask not for a kinder tone, for thou wert ever kind ; 

I ask not for less frugal fare, my fare I do not mind ; 

I ask not for attire more gay, if such a* I have got, 

Suffice to make me fair to tuee, for more I murmur not. 

But I would ask some share of hours that you on clubs bestow, 

Of knowledge which you prize so much, might I not something know ? 

Subtract from mt etings among men each eve an hour for me; 

Make me companion of your soul, as I may safely be. 

If you will read, I'll sit and work; then think when you're away, 

Less tedious I shall find the time, dear William, if you stay. 

A meet companion soon I'll be for e'en your studious hours, 

And teacher of those little ones you call your co tage flowers; 

And if we be no' rich and great, we may be wise and kind,' 

And as my heart can warm your heart, so may my mind your mind." 

No one likes to live in the sight of ugliness. No man is so 
poor but that he can have flowering shrubs in his yard. Na- 
ture is industrious in adorning her dominions; and man, to 
whom this beauty is addressed, should feel and obey the les- 
son. Let him, too, be industrious in adorning his domain, in 
making his home, the dwelling of his wife and children, not 
only convenient and comfortable, but pleasant. Let him as 
far as circumstances will admit, be industrious in surrounding 
it with pleasant objects, in decorating it within and without 
with things that tend to make it agreeable and attractive. 
Let industry make home the abode of neatness and order; a 
place which brings satisfaction to every inmate, and which in 
absence draws back the heart by its fond associations of com- 
fort and content. 

The word husband literally means "the band of the house," 
the support of it, the person who keeps it together, as a band 
keeps together a sheaf of corn. There are many married men 
who are not husbands, because they are not the band of the 
house. In many cases, the wife is the husband; for oftentimes 
it is she who, by her prudence and thrift and economy, keeps 
the house together. The married man who, by his dissolute 
habits, strips his house of all its comforts, is not a husband; 
in a legal sense he is, but in no other, for he is not a hotise- 
2i 



370 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

hand; instead of keeping his household together, he suffers 
both home and family to go to ruin. 

A third special duty of the husband is to love his wife sin- 
cerely, ardently, and supremely. Before you married her, 
you consulted her tastes, her wishes, and her judgment upon 
everything; surely if you love her sincerely, she is still worthy 
of the same confidence. Are you aware that she still thinks 
that she has no such pleasant walks as those she takes with 
her hand leaning upon your arm? A neglected wife is the 
most disconsolate creature in the world. 

" Be to her faults a little blind, 
And to her virtues very kind." 

Some husbands are so stiff and proud that they scarcely say 
a kind word or give a kiss to their wives for days and weeks 
together. It is an awful thing for a woman to be married to 
a man with whom, as Dr. Johnson says, she may be "living 
with the suspicion and solicitude of one who plays with a tame 
tiger, always under the necessity of watching the moment 
when the savage shall begin to growl." 

Many husbands are tyrants, beneath whose sway all the 
gentler affections wither and die. Take care that you are not 
of the number; but if jou pretend to love without showing 
that you love, or to be a husband without giving up an hour 
of your time to her whom you love, how is she to know of the 
existence of your affection? Remember, the power of selfish- 
ness, which is inwoven with our whole being, is designed to 
be altogether broken by marriage; and, by degrees, that love, 
becoming more and more pure, should take its place. When 
a man marries, he gives himself up to another being: in this 
affair of life he first goes out of himself, and inflicts the first 
deadly wound on his egotism. By every child with which his 
marriage is blessed, Nature renews the same attack on his self- 
hood; causes him to live less for himself, and more — even 
without being distinctly conscious of it — for others: his heart 
expands in proportion as the claimants upon it increase; and 
bursting the bonds of its former narrow exclusiveness, it event, 
ually extends its sympathies to all around. 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 371 

Still another special duty of the husband is to help his wife 
in the home when he can do so without infringing upon larger 
and more important duties. Many men seem to forget that it 
is as much their duty now and then to rock a cradle, nurse a 
baby, or play with the children, as it is the mother's. It is 
a grand thing to have a romp with the children, and that man 
is not worthy to be a father who cannot now and then play 
with them, or take an interest in their sports and occupations- 
Many a man who while courting was so anxious to help, that 
he would scarcely allow Mary to carry her parasol, seems, when 
married, to forget that this kind of attention is needful. Some- 
times we may see in a crowded market, a strong man walking 
with his hands in his pockets, while by his side is seen his 
weak wife struggling beneath the, .weight of a basket laden 
with provisions. She might indeed well say — 

"Once to prevent rny wishes, Philo flew; 
But Time that alters all, has altered you." 

Hemember that there are many little duties which a man 
can easily discharge, but which will make the labor of his wife 
lighter and more cheerful. Look around and see if you can- 
not chop some wood, carry some coal, fetch in some water 
drive in a few nails, and, as we have said, if there happen to 
be any children, play with them a little, and so lighten the 
burdens of the household. Grilfillan says, " Woman comes 
after man in the order of creation, and is inferior to man; but 
woman at the same time, if weaker, is more refined in her 
composition than man. Woman is the complement of man, 
and his great desideratum. Woman as the sister of man is 
bound to love, and entitled to be loved in return; as the 
shadow of man to reflect and obey him; as the spouse of man 
to sympathise with, help, and cheer: and receive aid, counte-. 
nance, and sympathetic compassion in exchange." 

In like manner, there are some special duties for the wife 
to perform, and these we now enumerate aswe have those be- 
longing to the husband. As the word u husband " literally 
means & house-band, so the word "wife" signifies literally a 



372 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

weaver, Before cloth and cotton factories arose, one of the 
principal duties of a wife was to keep the family in clothing 
by weaving. The wool was spun into thread by the girls who 
were therefore called spinsters, and the thread into cloth by 
the wife who was called a weaver. And as Trench well says, 
"In the word itself is wrapped up a hint of earnest, in-door, 
stay-at-home occupations, as being fitted for her who bears the 
name." Now, if we judge many so-called wives by this stand- 
ard, we shall find them a long way from answering the con- 
ditions. " Marriage," one says, " changes an angel into a 
woman, and it is a lucky tiling if the process don't go on and 
change her into something else," for many wives instead of 
being good, are good for nothing. They are unreasonable, 
peevish, indolent, extravagant, gossiping, dirty, slatternly. 
Indeed, we may sum up by saying there are some good, some 
bad, and many very indifferent ones to be found." 

But the wise man of old wrote that he " who findeth a wife 
findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favor from the Lord." 
But this is far different from saying, " he who findeth 2iWom,an, 
etc." To find a woman is easy enough, but to find a good 
wife is sometimes quite difficult. "The greatest of earthly 
blessings," said Luther, "is a pious and amiable wife who 
fears God and loves her family, and with whom a man may be 
at peace." While on the other hand a bad wife are as "shack- 
les on a man's feet, a palsy to his hands, a burden on his 
shoulders, smoke in his eyes, vinegar to his teeth, a thorn in 
his side, a dagger in his heart." In the language of a quaint 
old writer, "A good wife should be like three things; which 
three things she should not be like. First, she should be like 
a snail, to keep within her own house, but she should not be 
like a snail to carry all she has upon her back. Secondly she 
should be like an echo, to speak when spoken to, but she 
should not be like an echo always to have the last word. 
Thirdly, she should be like a town-clock, always to keep time 
and regularity, but she should not, like a town-clock, speak so 
loud that all the town may hear." 

In the first place, there can never be but one head to any- 



nAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 6i6 

thing, whether it be a manufacturing corporation or a house- 
hold, and that head, God says, shall be the man. Indeed, 
nature herself revolts at the indecency of a woman mounting 
the box, grasping the reins, and driving her household, hus- 
band included, whithersoever she will. Milton puts into the 
mouth of Eve this sentiment: — 

What thou biti'st, 
Unargued I obey; so God ordains; 
God is thy law, thoa mine; to know no more 
Is woman's happiest knowledge, and her praise. 

Matthew Henry, iu his commentary, when speaking of the 
creation of woman from the rib of the man, forcibly says, 
" She was not made out of his head to top him, not out of his 
feet to be trampled upon by him, but out of his side to be 
equal with him, under his arm to be protected, and near his 
heart to be beloved." And no sensible woman can object to 
this description.; Sidney • Smith very wisely remarks also, 
" Every man has little infirmities of temper and disposition 
which require forgiveness; peculiarities which require to be 
managed; prejudices which should be avoided, innocent habits 
which should be indulged, fixed opinions which should be 
treated with respect, particular feelings and delicacies which 
should be consulted; all this may be done without the slight- 
est violation of truth, or the most trifling infringment of re- 
ligion. These are the oacrilices which repay." 

Still, tire husband has no right to command what is morally 
wrong or unlawful. He has no right to compel the partner of 
his life to become a partner in sinful pleasures or amusements; 
no right to interfere with the proper discharge of her religious 
duties, or require her to be the instrument of his vices or 
follies. But then, as a matter of fact, while the men hold the 
reins, the women generally tell them which way to drive. 

A second special duty of the wife is to make her home a 
supremely happy one; to cause her husband to say while away 
at his work, — 

•' Rainy and rough sets the clay, 

There's a heart waiting for somebody, 



374 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

I must be up and away, 

Somebody is anxious for somebody; 
Thrice hath she been to the gate, 
Thrice hath she listened for somebody; 
Midst the night, stormy and late, 
Somebody's looking for somebody. 

There'll be a comforting fire, 

There'll be supper for somebody; 
One in her neatest attire 

Will look to the table for somebody; 
Though the stars set from the west, 
There's a star shining for somebody, 
Lighting the home lit; loves best, 
Warming the bosom of somebody. 

There'll be a coat o'er the chair, 

There'll be slippers for somebody; 
There'll be a wife's tender care, 

Love's fond endearments for somebody ; 
There'll be the little one's charms, 
Soon they'll be wakened for somebody. 
When I've got both in my arms, 
Then oh ! how blest will be somebody." 

Accordingly, it will be the wife's business to prepare before- 
hand for the prompt discharge of all her household duties. 
For a stitch in time not only saves nine, but prevents those 
outbreaks of temper which often occur when there is a button 
short, or some little article is wanted at the last moment, when 
all are ready to sit down to dinner or tea. Men love neatness, 
tidiness, method; and nothing pleases them better than to see 
a woman who is a " clever manager" of her house. And the. 
finest music in the world has not so sweet a sound as that of 
the rattling plate exactly at the meal-time hour; while fancy- 
work will soon be cast aside with contempt, if the buttons are 
not put on the shirts ready for use. Good wives, as a rule 
make good husbands; while bad wives transform good hus- 
bands into bad ones; or as Rousseau says, "Men will always 
be what women make them." 

There is quite a practical moral to the following story: — "A 
few weeks after marriage, a husband had some peculiar 
thoughts when putting on his clean shirt, as he saw no appear- 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 375 

ance of a washing. lie thereupon rose earlier than usual one 
morning, and kindled a fire. When putting on the kettle, he 
made a noise on purpose to arouse his wife. She immediately 
peeped over the blankets, and then exclaimed, " My dear, what 
are yon doing?" He deliberately responded, "I've put on my 
last clean shirt, and I'm going to wash one now for myself." 
" Very well," replied Mrs. Easy, "you had better wash one for 
me, too, while you are at it." Of course by such a method even 
an angel would soon become soured. By way of helping to 
keep the house in order we give the following hints on house- 
hold management. Have a stated day of the week for ascer- 
taining and getting in what articles you need for the house. 
Don't market on Saturday night if you can avoid it. Get the 
washing over in the early part of the week, so that the ironing, 
mending, etc., may be out of the way before Saturday. Have 
a place for everything, and try and keep everything in its 
place. 

Another special duty of the wife is to take good care of her 
health. How comparatively few married women we meet 
with, who are anything like healthy and strong; they can 
neither eat, drink, nor sleep as they ought. Women of the 
present day are far more, feeble than their grandmothers of the 
early part of this century. They do not take enough out-door 
exercise. Indeed they often say, they stay indoors until they 
don't want to go out. This is a great and fatal mistake. 
Then there is the proper ventilation of the house, and especially 
the bedrooms, every day. It is the general practice to make 
the beds as soon as possible in the morning. It is a singular 
thing that the rooms in which we spend a third at least of our 
lives, are frequently the worst-ventilated places in the house; 
and what little air can get through is frequently hindered by 
the foolish habit of stopping up the chimney. See to it that 
a good current of fresh air gets into your sleeping-rooms, if 
you wish to preserve your health and keep away disease. 

Again, a desire to please in her appearance should never 
leave the wife for a single day; for if she begins to neglect her- 
self* she will find it a short and easy road to neglect the 



376 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

house. A dirty woman and a dirty house generally go to- 
gether. Many worthy women, who would not for the world 
be found wanting in the matter of personal neatness, seem 
somehow to have the notion that any study of the arts of per- 
sonal beauty in family life is uninatronly. Marriage some- 
times transforms a charming, trim, tripping young lady into, 
a waddling matron, whose every-day toilet suggests only the 
idea of a feather-bed tied around w T ith a string. We do not 
believe that the summary banishment of the graces from the 
domestic circle as soon as the first baby makes its appearance, 
is at all conducive to domestic affection. Nor do we think 
that there is any need of so doing. Do you ask what is neat- 
ness and taste in dress? Listen to a comment of Dr. Johnson: 
"The best evidence that I can give you of her perfection in 
this respect is, that one can never remember what she had on." 

Comfort your husband in times of trial and trouble. It is 
not so thankworthy for thee to cheer thy husband when he can 
cheer thee, or himself without thee, while the day of prosperity 
lasts; but then to play the sweet orator, and to make him 
merry when all other comforts have forsaken him, in the sad 
season of sickness, of sorrow: this is better than all music and 
melody. Every busy bird, while summer lasts, will chirp and 
chatter; but to sing upon the bare bough or thorn-bush when 
the leaves are gone and the cold winter approacheth, this 
argues a wife truly graceful, truly 'amiable and cheerful, and, 
next to the soul's peace with God, is the greatest content un- 
-der the sun. 

Another great duty of the wife is to make a special study of 
her husband's habits, wants, and temper. A man has gen. 
erally formed many of his habits before marriage, and if a 
woman is wise she will try to gratify some of his little whims 
and fancies instead of trying to oppose them. A writer in the 
Spectator has truly said, "A woman never fairly enjoys her 
part as a wife who does not patronize her husband a good deal 
on small points, and who is not mildly conscious of her own 
superiority to him in that emancipation of spirit which makes 
her indulgence of these fancies of his seem so like spoiling him. 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 377 

If you yourself attach any real importance to the little matters 
you look after for him, so far it is not properly indulging. 
When you lament over him as he comes in wet and cold from 
a snow-storm, or bathe his head when it aches with Cologne? 
or see that he has his tonic at the right hour when he is ill, or 
scold the servants for disturbing his nap before he sets to his 
■evening work, or 'break' an unexpected bill to him — in all 
these cases you are simply -giving him your hearty s # yrnpathy 
— not petting him. But it is in taking care that his food is as 
he likes it; that the odd fancy of his is gratified about having 
pudding with roast beef; or that the curious dislike to being 
fidgeted bv the servant's entering to draw down the blinds 
and close the shutters in his study, is humored; or that his 
unfortunate taste for plenty of cream in his tea, which spoils 
it so to your finer perception, is satisfied — it is in these things 
that you feel full delight in petting your husband and that 
your face beams 'with something of angelic light' in conced- 
ing to his frailty what you feel entirely L independent of for 
yourself." 

Dr. Franklin having noticed that a certain mechanic, who 
worked near his office, was always happy and smiling, ven- 
tured to ask him the secret of his constant cheerfulness. " It's 
no secret,"' he replied;" "I have got one of the best of wives; 
when I go to work she always has a kind word of encourage- 
ment for me, and when I come home, she meets me with a 
smile and a kiss, and the tea is sure to be ready, and she has 
done so many things through the day to please me, that I can- 
not find in my heart to speak an unkind word to anybody." 

Remember, it always takes two to make a quarrel; and if 
the husband happens to come home out of sorts, try and calm 
him down. He will then with joy say — 

"Well thou playest the housewife's part, 
And all thy threads with magic art 
Have wound themselves about my heart." 

If he should be inclined to dispute with you, abstain from 
a long argument with him. Let it be a standing motto, 
never to irritate. Gentleness is the best way to carry a 



378 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

point, and to keep a husband in a good temper is one of the 
duties of a wife. As one well remarks — "A wife should never 
irritate her husband by acting in opposition to his prejudices. 
A husband usually has little crotchety notions, about which 
he is very particular; these may be in themselves of no mo- 
ment, but if they are continually thwarted, they will soon 
come to be looked upon as weighty matters, and will frequently 
lead to grave disputes." Beware lest you make your house 
appear so unpleasant that your husband goes away to find 
comfort. Let not your husband say with reference to you, 

"A woman's*rosy mouth is good to see; 
With its soft, sculptured lines cut cleanly out. 
A ' thing of beauty ' it must surely be ; 
But for the rest, there may exist a doubt. 
To hear it scold through breakfast,* lunch, and tea, 
Is apt to put the best digestion out. 
No 'joy for ever,' is the ruby mouth 
That blows much oftener from 'nor-east than south.' " 

A wife should always remember that it only requires a 

"Something light as air — a look, 
A word unkind or wrongly taken — 
Oh ! love that tempest never shook, 
A breath, a touch like this has shaken. 
And ruder words will soon rush in 
To spread. the breach that words begin; 
And eyes forget the gentle ray 
They wore in courtship's smiling day: 
And voices lose the love that shed 
A tenderness round all they said; 
Till fast declining, one by one, 
The sweetnesses of life are gone ; 
And hearts so lately mingled, seem 
Like broken clouds, or like the stream 
That smiling left the mountain's brow, 
As though its waters ne'er could sever, 
Yet, ere it reach the plain below, 
Breaks into floods that part forever." 

Should a quarrel unfortunately arise, a wife's greatest care 
opo-ht to be to confine the knowledge of it to her own breast. 
Many silly women, in irritation and in a desire to be thought 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 379* 

martyrs, no sooner have words with their husbands, than they 
rush off and tell the whole story to some chosen confidant, of 
course making their husbands appear as very bad persons. 
A wife should have no confidants; and she should be careful 
to conceal any little discord that may occur with her husband. 
For if one person be informed, the scandal spreads, and the 
wife has ere long bitter cause to regret having lowered both 
herself and her husband in popular estimation; but worst of 
all, a husband rarely forgets, and never quite forgives, such an 
exposure, which as Richardson observes, "is sure to be re- 
membered long after the honest people have forgotten it them- 
selves." 

Lastly, in the matter of family or pprsona! expenses, a wife 
should first know whether her husband can spare money be- 
fore she spends it. He -alone can tell what he can spare; and 
if he gives you good reason for supposing that he can't afford 
to buy this or thatj be satisfied. Many a man has been ruined 
by allowing his wife to spend before he has earned his money. 
You have no right to risk the happiness of home in this way. 
The woman who feels that she has a right to spend every 
penny that she can get, forgets that she has no right to waste 
or squander it. She and her husband are partners, and both 
should be equally anxious to keep the nightmare of debt far 
away. Women ought to be specially interested in watching 
over the family income and in seeing that the household ex- 
penses fall within its limits, instead of outside of them. And 
when money is denied you, never get sulky over it. A sulky 
man is bad enough, what, then, must be a sulky woman, and 
that woman a wife; a constant inmate, a companion day and 
night? Only think of the delight of sitting at the same table 
and sleeping in the same bed for a week, and not exchanging 
a] word all the while ! There is many a man who has had occasion 
to say with more of sadness than glee: 

"Heaven bless the wives, they fill our hives 

With little bees and honey ! 
They soothe life's shocks, they mend our socks, 
But — don't they spend the money! " 



3S0 THE IMPEKIAL HIGHWAY. 



CHAPTEE IX. 
Home. 

When thy heart in its pride, would stray- 
Prom the pure first loves of its youth away — 
When the sullying breath of the world would come 
O'er the flowers it brought from its childhood's home, 

Think of the tree at thy father's door, 
And the kindly spell shall have power once more. 

Felicia Hemans. 

I love that dear old home! my mother lived there! 
And the sunlight seems to me brighter far 
Than wheresoever else. I know the forms 
Of every tree and mountain, hill and deli; 
Its waters gurgle like a tongue I know — 
It is my home. 

Frances K. Butler. 

Between broad fields of wheat and corn 
Is the lowly home where I was born ; 
The peach-tree leans against the wall, 
And the woodbine clambers over all. 
There is the barn — and as of yore 
I can smell the hay from the open door, 
And see the busy swallows throng, 
And hear the pee wee's mournful fcong. 
Oh, ye who daily cross the sill, 
Step lightly, for I love it still ! 

T. Buchanan Eead. 

The heart has many a dwelling-spot 

On life-time's pilgrim way, m 
In many a land where human lot 

Leads human foot to stray ; 
But time or change can ne'er efface 




HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 381 

This truth, where'er we roam, 
That the heart has many a dwelling-place, 
But only once a Home. 

Frederick Enos. 

. FTER courtship and marriage" comes — or should come 
m — the home. No mere boarding-place, however good 
and pleasant, no traveling tour, however varied and 
extended, can supply the want created by an instinctive heart- 
longing for someplace, "be it ever so lowly," which can be 
called — our home. As J. Howard Payne wrote so many 
years ago (himself at the time a homeless exile in a foreign, 
land), 

A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there, 

Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere . 

The very word has a soothing cadence connected/ with its- 
pronunciation. It constitutes the magic circle within which 
the weary spirit firids refuge; it is the sacred asylum to which 
the care-worn heart retreats to find rest from the toils and 
disquietude of life. It is a word which touches every fiber of 
the soul and strikes every chord of the human heart with its 
angelic fingers. Nothing but death can break its spell. What 
tender associations are linked with home! What pleasing im- 
ages and deep emotion it awakens! It calls up the fondest 
memories of life and opens in our nature the purest, deepest, 
richest fount of consecrated thought and feeling. 

Some years ago about twenty thousand people gathered in 
the old Castle Garden, New York, to hear Jenny Lind sing, 
as no other songstress ever had sung, the sublime compositions 
of Beethoven, Handel, etc. At length the Swedish Night- 
ingale thought of her home, paused, and seemed to fold her 
wings for a higher flight. She began with deep emotion to 
pour forth "Home, Sweet Home." The audience could not 
stand it. An uproar of applause stopped the music. Tears 
gushed from those thousands like rain. Beethoven and Han- 
del were forgotten. After a moment the song came again, 
seemingly as from heaven, almost angelic. Home, that was 
the word that bound as with a spell twenty thousand souls, 



382 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

and Howard Payne triumphed over the great masters of song. 
When we look at the brevit} r and simplicity of this home 
song, we are ready to ask, what is the charm that lies concealed 
in it? The answer is easy. Next to religion, the deepest and 
most ineradicable sentiment in the human soul is that of the 
home affections. Every heart vibrates to this theme. 

There is no happiness in life, there is no misery like that- 
growing out of the dispositions which consecrate or desecrate 
a home. He is happiest, be he king or peasant, who finds 
peace in his home. Home should be made so truly home 
that the weary, tempted heart could turn toward it anywhere 
on the dusty highway of life and receive light and strength. 
The affections and loves of home constitute the poetry of hu- 
man life, and, so far as our present existence is concerned with 
all the domestic relations, are worth more than all other social 
ties. They give the first throb to the heart and unseal the 
deep fountains of its love. Home is the chief school of human 
virtue. Its responsibilities, joys, sorrows, smiles, tears, hopes, 
and solicitudes form the chief interest of human life. 

There is nothing in the world which is so venerable as the 
character of parents; nothing so intimate and endearing as 
the relation of husband and wife; nothing so tender as that of 
children; nothing so lovely as those of brothers and sisters. 
The little circle is made one by a singular union of the affec- 
tions. The only fountains in the wilderness of life where 
man drinks of w r ater totally unmixed with bitter ingredients, 
is that which gushes for him in the calm and shady recess of 
domestic life. Pleasure may heat the heart with artificial ex- 
citement, ambition may delude it with golden dreams, war 
may eradicate its fine fibres and diminish its sensitiveness, but 
it is only domestic love that can render it truly happy. 

Even as the sunbeam is composed of millions of minute 
rays, so the home-life must be constituted of little tender- 
nesses, kind looks, sweet laughter, gentle words, loving coun- 
sels. It must not be like the torch-blaze of natural excite- 
ment which is easily quenched, but like the serene, chastened 
light which burns as safely in the dry east wind as in the 
stillest atmosphere. Let each cultivate the mutual confidence 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 383 

which is a gift capable of increase and improvement, and soon 
it will be found that kindliness will spring up on every side, 
displacing constitutional un suitability, want of mutual knowl- 
edge, even as we have seen sweet violets and primroses dispel- 
ling the gloom of the gray sea-rocks. 

Much of a man's energy and success, as well as happiness, 
depends upon the character of his home. Secure there, he 
goes forth bravely to encounter the trials of life. It is his 
point of rest. It is a reserved power to fall back upon. Home 
and home friends! How dear they are to us* all! When all 
other friends prove false, home friends, removed from every 
bias but love, are the steadfast aud sure stays of our peace of 
soul, — are best and dearest when the hour is darkest and the 
danger of evil the greatest. But if one have none to care for 
him at home, — if there be neglect, or love of absence, or cold- 
ness, in our home and on our hearth, then, even if we prosper 
without, it is dark indeed within! It is not seldom that we 
can trace alienation and dissipation to this source. If no wife 
or sister care for him who returns from his toil, well may he 
despair of life's best blessings. Home is nothing but a name 
without true friends. 

The sweetest type of heaven is home — nay, heaven itself is 
the home for whose acquisition we are to strive the most 
strongly. Home, in one form and another, is the great object of 
life. It stands at the end of every day's labor, and beckons us 
to its bosom; and life would be cheerless and meaningless did we 
not discern across the river that divides it from the life beyond, 
glimpses of pleasant mansions prepared for us. 

"Like the great rock's grateful shade, 

In a strange and weary land — 
Like the desert's cooling spring, 

To a faint and and drooping band — 
So to all -will memories come, 
Of the peaceful hours at home ! 

"To the sailor on the sea 

As the midnight watch he keeps, 

Some sweet thought of home will be 

With him if he wakes or sleeps. 



384 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

Memories of mother-love 
Follow where his footsteps rove! 

"On the bloody field of death 

Where brave hearts beat faint and low, 
Heroes with their parting breath, 

Say some word before they go 
That a comrade sad and lone 
Will bear back to those at home ! 

•'Hours at home ! can we forget 

Aught that makes their memory dear? 

Youth and childhood linger yet 
With their skies so brightly clear, 

And we bless, where'er we roam, 

All that speaks of hours at home." 

More than this, our nature demands a home. It is the first 
essential element of our social being. Life cannot be complete 
without home relations; there would be no proper equilibrium 
of life and character without the home influence. The strength 
of this influence may be estimated by the power of its im- 
pressions. It is the prerogative of home to make the first 
impression upon our nature, and to give that nature its first 
direction onward and upward. It uncovers the moral fountain, 
chooses its channel, and gives the stream its first impulse. It 
makes the "first stamp and sets the first seal " upon the plastic 
nature of the child. It gives the first tone to our desires and 
furnishes ingredients that will either sweeten or embitter the 
whole cup of life. These impressions are indelible and durable 
as life. Compared with them, other impressions are like those 
made upon sand or wax. To erase them we must remove 
every strata of our being. Even the infidel lives under the 
holy influence of a pious mother's impressions. John Ran- 
dolph could never shake off the restraining influence of a little 
prayer his mother taught him when a child. It preserved him 
from the clutches of avowed infidelity. 

Thus the home influence is either a blessing or a curse. It 
cannot be neutral. In either case it is mighty, commencing 
with our birth, going with us through life, clinging to us in 
death, and reaching into the eternal world. Like the calm, 




Tftfl E 



© HilESTEO. 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 3S5 

deep stream, it moves on in silent, but overwhelming power. 
It strikes its roots deep into the human heart, and spreads its 
branches wide over our whole being. Like the lily that braves 
the tempest, and "the Alpine flower that leans its cheek on 
the bosom of eternal snows," it is exerted amid the wildest 
storms of life and breathes a softening spell in our bosom even 
when a heartless world is freezing up the fountains of sym- 
pathy and love. It is governing, restraining, attracting and 
traditional. It holds the empire of the heart and rules the 
life. It restrains the wayward passions of the child and 
checks him in his mad career of ruin. 

Our habits, too, are formed under the molding power of 
home. The "tender twig" is there bent, the spirit shaped, 
principles implanted, and the whole character is formed until 
it becomes a habit. Who does not feel this influence of home 
upon all his habits of life? The gray-haired father who wails 
in his second infancy, feels the traces of his childhood home 
in his spirit, desires and habits. The most illustrious states- 
men, the most distinguished warriors, the most eloquent min- 
isters, and "the greatest benefactors of human kind, owe their 
greatness to the fostering influence of home. Napoleon felt 
this when he said, " What France needs is good mothers.'' 
The homes of the American revolution made the men of the 
revolution. Their influence reaches yet far into the inmost 
frame and constitution of our republic. 

Place does not constitute home. Many a gilded palace and 
sea of luxury is not a home. Many a flower-girt dwelling and 
splendid mansion lacks all the essentials of home. A hovel is 
often more a home than a palace. If the spirit of congenial 
friendship link not the hearts of the inmates of a dwelling, it 
is not a home. If love reign not there; if charity spread not 
her downy mantle over all; if peace prevail not; if content- 
ment be not a meek and merry dweller therein; if virtue rear 
not her beautiful children, and religion come not in her white 
robe of gentleness to lay her hand in benediction on every 
head, the home is not complete. 

We are all in the habit of building for ourselves ideal 
25 



386 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

homes. But they are generally made up of outward things — 
a house, a garden, a carriage, and the ornaments and append- 
ages of luxury. And if, in our lives, we do not realize our 
ideas, we make ourselves miserable and our friends miserable. 
But the true idea of home is a quiet, secluded spot, where 
loving hearts dwell, set apart and dedicated to intellectual and 
moral improvement. It is not a formal school of staid solem- 
nity and rigid discipline, where virtue is made a task and pro- 
gress a sharp necessity, but a place where obedience is a 
pleasure, discipline a joy, and improvement a self-wrought 
delight. 

Every home should be cheerful. Innocent joy should reign 
in every heart. There should be domestic amusements, fire, 
side pleasures, quiet and simple it may be, but such as shall 
make home happy, and not leave it that irksome place which 
will oblige the youthful spirit to look elsewhere for joy. 
There are a thousand unobtrusive ways in which we may add 
to the cheerfulness of home. The very modulations of the 
voice will often make a wonderful difference. How many 
shades of feeling are expressed by the voice ! No delicately 
tuned harp-stiing can awaken more pleasure; no grating dis- 
cord can pierce with more pain. 

Let parents talk much and talk well at home. We some- 
times see parents, who are the life of every company which 
they enter, dull, silent and uninteresting at home among the 
children. If they have not mental activity and physical vigor 
sufficient for both, let them first provide for their own house- 
hold. It is better to instruct children and make them happy 
at home, than try to charm strangers or amuse friends. The 
youth who does not love home is always in danger. 

Fathers and mothers, if you would not have your children 
lost to you in after life — if you would have your married 
daughters not forget their old home in the new one — if you 
would have your sons lend a hand to keep you in*the old rose- 
covered cottage, instead of letting you go to the naked walls 
of a workhouse — make home happy to them when they are 
young. Send them out into the world in the full belief that 



HAPPINESS IN SOdAL LIFE. 387 

there is " no place like home." And even if the old home 
should in the course of time be pulled down, or be lost to 
your children, it will still live in their memories. The kind 
looks, and kind words, and thoughtful love of those who once 
inhabited it will not pass away. 

Poor, tempest-tossed Goldsmith, w T riting of — 

Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain, 
Where health and plenty cheered the laboring swain, 
Where smiling Spring its earliest visits paid, 
And parting Summer's lingering blooms delayed, 
Dear, lovely bower of innocence and ease, 
Seat of my youth, when every sport could please, 

says, with a touch of sad pathos mingled with deep and inex- 
pressible fondness: — 

In all my wanderings round this world of care, 
In all my griefs — and God has given my share — 
I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, 
And in these humble bowers to lay me down. 
To husband out life's taper at the close, 
And keep the flame from wasting, by repose. 
And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue, 
Pants to the place from whence at first she flew, 
I still had hopes, my long vexations past, 
There to return — and die at home at last. 

And such is the feeling of every human heart, unless that 
feeling has been killed by parental unkindness and cruelty, or 
by personal degradation and vice. 

AVOMAN AND HOME. 

In such a true home, woman is the God-ordained queen. 
Mature placed her on that throne, and she practically rules or 
ruins her kingdom and its subjects. Accordingly, home takes 
its hue and happiness principally from her. If she is in the 
best sense womanly — if she is true and tender, loving and he- 
roic, patient and self-devoted — she consciously or unconsciously 
organizes and puts in operation a set of influences that do 
more to mold the destiny of the nation than any man, un- 



388 TIIE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

. crowned by power or eloquence, can possibly effect. The 
men of the nation are what their mothers make them, as a. 
rule; and the voice which those men speak in the expression 
of their power is the voice of the women who bore and bred 
them. 

There can be no substitute for this. There is no other pos- 
sible way in which the women of the nation can organize their 
influence and power that will tell so beneficially upon society 
and the State. Neither woman nor the nation can afford to 
have home demoralized, or in any way deteriorated by the loss 
of her presence, or the lessening of her influence there. As 
a nation we rise or fall as the character of our homes, presided 
over by woman, rises or falls; and the best gauge of our pros- 
perity is to be found in the measure by which these homes- 
find multiplication in the land. In true marriage, and the 
struggle after the highest ideal of home life, is to be found the 
solution of most of the ugly problems that confront the pres- 
ent generation. 

But there is a type of American womanhood of which all 
good people should be ashamed. It is found chiefly in large 
cities. It lives in hotels aud boarding-houses; it travels, it 
haunts the fashionable watering-places; it is prominent at the 
opera and the ball; in short, it is wherever it can show itself 
and its clothes. It rejoices over a notice of itself in a news- 
paper as among the proudest and most grateful of its social, 
achievements. Its grand first question is: "Wherewithal, 
shall I be clothed?" and when that is answered as well as it 
can be, the next is: "How and where can I show my clothes 
so as to attract the most men, distress the greatest number of 
women, and make the most stunning social sensation?" We 
have all seen these women at home and away; and their pre- 
sumption, boldness, vanity, idleness, display, and lack of all 
noble and womanly aims are a disgrace to the city wh'c t pro- 
duces them, and the country after whose name they call them_ 
selves. 

Of course there is a sufficient cause for the production of 
this type of woman, and it is to be found in her circumstances- 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 36$ 

and way of life. It is prevalent among those who have sud- 
denly become rich, among those of humble beginnings and 
insufficient breeding and education. It is fostered in boarding 
houses and hotels — those hot-beds of jealousy and personal 
-and social rivalry and aimless idleness. The woman who finds 
herself housed and clothed and fed and petted and furnished 
with money for artificial as well as real wants, without the 
lifting of a finger or the burden of a care, and without the 
culture of head or heart that leads her to seek for the higher 
satisfactions of womanhood, becomes in the most natural way 
precisely what we have described. It would be unnatural for 
her to become anything else. The simple truth is, that unless 
women have a routine of duty that diverts their thoughts from 
themselves, and gives them something to think of besides 
dress and the exhibition of it, they degenerate. 

"There is no cure for this," says Dr. Holland, "but univer- 
sal housekeeping. There is.no man who can afford to pay a 
fair price for board, who cannot afford to keep house; and 
'housekeeping, though it be never so humble, is the most nat- 
ural and the healthiest office to which woman is ever called. 
There is no one thing that would do so much to elevate woman- 
.'hood as a universal secession from boarding-house and hotel 
life, and. a universal entrance upon separate homes. Such a 
.step would increase the stock of happiness, improve health of 
body and health of mind, and raise at once the standard of 
morals and manners. 

"•The devil always finds work fur idle hands to do, "whether 
the hands belong to men or women; but American men are 
not apt to be idle. They are absorbed in work from early un- 
til late, and leave their idle wives cooped up in rooms that cost 
them no care, to get rid of the lingering time as they can. 
To live in public, to be on dress parade every day, to be always 
part and parcel of a gossiping multitude, to live aimlessly 
year after year, with thoughts concentrated upon one's person 
and one's selfish delights, to be perpetually without a routine 
of healthy- duty, is to take the- broadest and briefest road 
•to the degradation of all that is admirable and lovable in 



390 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

womanhood. It is to make, by the most natural process, that 
gay, gaudy, loud, frivolous, pretentious, vain, intriguing, un- 
satisfied, and unhappy creature which is known and recognized 
everywhere as the fashionable woman." 

We greatly fear that multitudes of women in these days do- 
not understand their true position and work in life; do not 
realize that God intended them to be a kind of connecting 
link between man and all higher good, and the guardian and 
preserver of the nobler, higher, diviner part of human life;, 
intended to have them woo men back from cold, hard selfish- 
ness to a life of tenderness, beauty, purity, truthfulness and 
love. Nor do they realize that it is possible for them, as the- 
preservers of the world's heart-life, to become its very worst 
destroyers! Think of this, woman, when you. try to outdo 
your neighbor in personal and household display, and ask. 
yourself whether you are fulfilling your real mission in so do- 
ing? Instead of being simply animated bundles of dry-goods,, 
ray out from your heart and like a glow of power and love 
that shall tinge the world with a brighter luster, and lead it. 
up to a higher walk in tender sympathy and pure benevolence.. 
You can do it as no other being on earth can, and God wil 
hold you responsible for not doing it. Instead of trying to 
please simply, try to make men better, more charitable, less 
envious, with more of tender pity towards the unfortunate^, 
more of truth and goodness in their hearts. 

Says a modern writer: " If an active competition with man 
in professional or mercantile life will fit woman for home life, 
and help to endow her with those virtues whose illustration is 
so essential to her best influence in the family, let her by all 
means engage in this competition. If the studies and appren- 
ticeships necessary to make such a life as this successful are 
those which peculiarly fit women to be wives and mothers, and 
prepare them to preside over the homes of the people, let us 
change our educational institutions to meet the necessity, and 
do it at once. If woman's power over the ballot-box, now ex- 
ercised by shaping the voter, and lifting the moral tone of the 
nation at home, will be made better and more unselfish by 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 391 

giving her a hand in political strife, and the chance for an 
office, let her vote by all means. If those virtues and traits of 
character which are universally recognized as womanly are 
nurtured by participation in public life— if woman grows mod- 
est, sweet, truthful, and trustworthy by familiarity with polit- 
ical intrigues, or by engaging in public debates — if her home 
grows better and more influential for good in consequence of 
her absence from ftjtlien we advocate without qualification her 
entrance upon public life at onca, and demand that the broad- 
est place shall be made for her. If the number of true marri- 
ages is to be increased by a policy that tends to make the 
sexes competitors with each other for the prizes of wealth and 
place, and secures to anj< marked degree their independence of 
each other, then let that policy be adopted." 

In her own true and proper sphere, the power of women 
over men is very great, and is always positively exercised for 
good or for evil. She can become an angel or a demon to lead 
men on — to heaven or hell. As has been truly remarked, the 
mind of man is so constituted as to feel most sensitively the 
praise or the blame of woman. It is hard for any man to feel 
that he rests under the censure of all the good women by 
whom he is surrounded. A man who has not some woman, 
somewhere, who believes in him, trusts him and loves him> 
has reached a point where self-respect is gone. 

All men, who deserve the name of men desire the respect of 
women; and when a man finds himself in a position which 
fixes upon him the disapproval of a whole community of 
women, a power is brought to bear upon him which he cer- 
tainly cannot ignore, and which he finds it difficult to resist. 
The power of woman, simply as woman, has had too many 
illustrations in history to need discussion. A man's self- 
respect can only be nursed to its best estate in the approval of 
the finer sense and quicker conscience of the women who 
know him. Therefore when women for any reason leave the 
home as their true post of honor and of duty, they do thereby 
immediately lessen the quantity and weaken the quality of 
their power in exact proportion to the extent of their wan- 
derings. 



392 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

A temptation often comes to many women in the home 
which is truthfully and 'beautifully expressed in the following' 
poem by Ada Y. Leslie. The temptation is all the more dan- 
gerous because it takes on, to an aspiring woman's ambition, 
the garb and form of an angel of light, and frequently leads 
her away from paths of peace to rugged and toilsome ascents 
up the sides of a cold and desolate mountain. — 

Last night iny darling said to me, 

With flushing cheek and downcast eye, 
"You men are always giy, while we 

Can only sit and sigh. 

"We laugh and jest, ti lure you on 

To say 1 1 love,' with many a wile ; 
But oh ! beneath the jesting tone, 

The glances and the smile— 

"Our hearts are sad — a vague unrest 

Fills all the pauses of our life; 
Not always can a faithful breast, 

And sacred name of wife, 

"Bring peace and joy ; a greater good 

Shines out afar on dizzy heights; 
A bitter longing stirs our blood, 

Through all the days and nights. 

"As one within a prison chained, 

Who sees his comrades fight and fall, 
And weeps to see his share unclaimed 

Of that which is for all — 

"The right to do, the right to be 

A nobler thing than toy or slave ; 
A something great and good and free, 

Whose rest is not the grave. 

"E'en so we yearn — ah me, j r ou smile! 

And I have shown my heart in vain ; 
But then, I've learnt this truth the while 

You care not f.r our pain. 

"Tis wiser far by stern control — 

By bitter, rigid discipline, 
To tutor woman's loving soul 

To hopes and thoughts divine. 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 393 

"Tis better, nobler, to forego 
A bride's delight, that sweet, vague dream, 

Than waken up to married woe, 
Which has no Lethean stream." 

I stretched t > her my loving arms— 

I gave a pleading look and said, 
"Here is your home!" She sank therein, 

Her false ambition dead! 

No man or woman with mature mind and heart, having had 
any considerable experience in the ways and trials of life, but 
will agree that this maiden's final decision, as depicted in 
the last verse, was a wise and proper one. It is right and truly 
noble for all women to long to be something more " than toy 
or slave," but it does not follow that to be this she must needs 
" forego a bride's delight," or step down from her home throne. 
On the contrary, " the right to do, the right to be, something 
great and good and free," is a right (or rather, a privilege) 
which can be exercised and enjoyed nowhere on earth so fully 
and advantageously as in the home circle. 

To leave that sacred, holy, happy spot and rush out blindly 
and wildly after some imaginary good which "shines afar on 
dizzy heights," is to throw down the sceptre of her power, and 
deliberately trample under foot all the leverage of influence 
which God and her own feminine nature have placed at her 
disposal. 

The home, to any true woman, need never be " a prison," 
unless she herself make it thus by an unwise choice of a life- 
partner, or by a u vague unrest " after the home duties and 
pleasures are once entered upon. But on the other hand, 
home is jnst the place above all others where "hopes and 
thoughts divine" are born, nurtured, matured and carried into 
practical realization. And so the lines of Young are veri. 
fied anew, that — ■ 

The first sure symptoms of a mind in health, 
Is rest of heart and pleasure felt at home. 



394 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



CHAPTER X. 

Early Childhood. 

O ! a wonderful stream is the river Time, 

As it runs through, the realm of tears, 
With a faultless rhythm and a musicaL rhyme, 
And a broader sweep and a surge sublime 

As it blends with the ocean of Years. 

There's a magical isle up the river Time, 

Where the softest of airs are playiug; 
There's a cloudless sky and a tropical clime, 
And a song as sweet as, a vesper chime, 

And the Junes with the roses are staying. 

And the name of this isle is the Long Ago, 

And we bury our treasures there ; 
There are brows of beauty and bosoms of snow; 
There are heaps of dust— but we loved them so! 

There are trinkets and tresses of hair. 

There are hands that are waved, when the fairy shore 

By the mirage is lifted in air; 
And we sometimes hear, through the turbulent roar, 
Sweet voices we heard in the clays gone before, 

When the wind down the river was fair. 

Benj. F. Taylor. 

|£ EADER, embark with me on board the fairy skiny 
I Memory, and let us eacli take np one of fancy's silver 
» oars, and row up this grand old river and view the 
magical isle" of our childhood, as it lies peacefully 
sleeping in the glorious haze of departed and buried joys. 
Perchance we may land at that same beach where, in the 
long ago, we whiled away the unconscious hours in skipping 
smooth pebbles upon its quiet, glassy surface, for the pleasure 
of watching the dimpling waves which followed, breaking 




u 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 395- 

along in successive ridges, and lessening as they widened. 
We will also look up with reverence and admiration into the 
sky of youthful hope once more; not quite cloudless it may be, 
but beautifully mottled with stray, floating, "man's-hand" 
spots. We will catcli if possible the yet lingering echoes of 
that song of early joy, and invigorate our worn and drooping 
spirits with a snuff of fragrance manufactured by those ce- 
lestial perfumers — "Junes & Roses." 

One of the greatest and most valuable delights which are- 
felt by mortals amid the stern and oftentimes soul-harrowing 
conflicts of life's after campaign, is that of recalling the scenes 
of one's earlier years. To go backward along the pathway of 
experience, leaving the excitement and perplexity of the ma- 
tured present, pushing aside all care and forcing our way 
through brushwood and thicket as well as gliding over violet 
patches, proceeding on and on till that old homestead of the 
soul is reached — the same that sheltered our infancy and wit- 
nessed our first loves and fears —is a pleasure than which noth- 
ing is superior, save a contemplation of eternal bliss. Now 
it is like that bounding exhilaration which one feels in escap- 
ing from the hot, crowded and dusty thoroughfares of a swel- 
tering city to some rural spot, surrounded with vernal fields, 
clover-scented breezes and singing birds, and then it sobers 
down to the silent pensiveness and pulseless ecstacy of a twi- 
light dream. Says Richard Henry Stoddard: 

There are gains for all our losses, 

There are balms for all our pains; 
But when youth, the dream, departs, 
It takes something from our hearts, 

And it never comes again. 

We are stronger and are better 

Under manhood's sterner reign; 
Still we feel that something sweet 
Followed youth with flying feet, 

Which will never come again. 

Something beautiful is vanished, 
And we sigh for it in vain ; 



396 THE IMPKIJTAL HIGHWAY. 

We behold it everywhere, 
On the earth and in the air, 
But it never comes again. 

There lies in every uncorhipted bosom a certain conscious- 
ness which spontaneously responds, with a certain class of 
emotions and memories to the word, home-feeling. The home 
of our childhood is the place where — at least as it seems to us 
afterward — we spend the pleasantest part of our life. And 
the longer our life becomes, the more strongly does it seem to 
bind us back to this childhood home. As unpleasant mem- 
ories, because they are unpleasant and therefore not willingly 
revived, pass more readily out of view, and on the contrary, 
pleasant memories, because they are pleasant and therefore 
-cherished, are most tenaciously retained, so the memories and 
associations of our early home gradually glorify the place to 
our retrospective vision, and the love of it becomes to us a 
permanent inheritance. 

Our inner life, as soon as its first childhood is left behind, 
begins to travel toward the second, which it reaches in old 
a^e, when all that belonged to and characterized the first is 
singularly revived. The convoluted sea-shell, on whatever 
shore the billows may have cast it, moans still for its old 
ocean-bed; the magnetic needle, however acted upon by divert- 
ing and disturbing forces, ever tremblingly seeks the pole; the 
bird of passage, in its season, yields its life to the attracting, 
power of the "sweet south," and reaches it through fog and 
storms. So our restless hearts ever turn with mysterious 
spontaneity to that spot dearer than all others — that begin- 
ning and center of our life which moves not with the whirl, 
nor travels with us in our pilgrimage — that place of rest, and 
peace and love — our childhood home. 

The outward acts of childhood are not its history, and they 
give little clue to its inward and true history. The peculiar 
plastic life which really wrought in us during those beautiful 
years can only be read in the impressions which we then re- 
ceived, and which memory has carried with it as part of our 
own deep life. These memories are the true book of our 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 397 

early life; and if we wish to make a record of onr childhood 
for others, these memories are, and must be, the life of the- 
record we make. 

As says another, "home is not so much a place as a contin- 
uous location of thoughts, feelings, impressions, and memories. 
The home of the babe is its mother's bosom, lap, and arms. 
The home of the infant is the nursery. The home of the boy 
or girl is the yard and playground. The home of manhood is 
a continuous reproduction of all these in the mind and memory, 
and a transferring of them to other and wider localities. The 
home of the citizen extends over his country, which is his 
fatherland — an extension of the idea of family home. The 
home of the Christian is the church, which overleaps the limits 
of nationality and becomes catholic. The home of the glori- 
fied saint is universal as the wide realm of the Redeemer. 

"This home-feeling begins where life itself begins — in the 
family. This word, very significantly, means hidden, covered,, 
secret, or concealed. Here are the germs of the future growth. 
Here are the elements which inform, inlay, and feed the ten- 
derest and most delicate tissues and fibres of our early growth. 
Here are found the finest adjustments in the union of the 
world without and the world within us. Here, as in the inner 
petals of the rose, are the softest touches. Here is that heart 
of things out of which are the issues of life, and of all that in 
life shall yet be. Here rises that stream, the liveliest green 
of whose margin enables us always to trace it back to its 
source. Here we began. Here nations began. Here the 
race began." 

It is a pretty, if not a truthful conceit of Wordsworth's 
that 

Heaven lies about us in our infancy ! 
The soul that rises with us, our life's star, 
Hath had elsewhere its setting, 
And cometh from afar ; 
Not in entire forgetfulness, 
And not in utter nakedness, 
But with trailing clouds of glory from God 
Who is our home. 



398 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

And so this recollection of the scenes and the home of our 
childhood is not only delicious and unique as an enjoyment, 
but also eminently beneficial as a moral exercise. All reflec- 
tion, when rightly carried on, has an elevating tendency. 
Abuses in character are best corrected by invisible thought 
vigils. Morally speaking, being, independent of higher in- 
fluences, is progressive in evil alone. Early childhood, there- 
fore, is the most innocent and upright portion of an earthly 
career. The soul, coming to us like a sprig of immortality 
from the Tree of Life above, seems to maintain its native es- 
sence untainted and intact at first, but becomes polluted by 
association with the corrupt nature into which it is ingrafted. 
Still its first convictions are the highest authority we can have 
on ethical questions except the revealed will. In man's per- 
petual vibrations between extremes no better standard of 
judgment can be found, outside of infallible guidance, to 
ascertain how far the central point of his swinging has de- 
bated from the true, golden mean, than by an attentive com- 
parison of prevailing sentiments with original impressions on 
the same point. 

Whether any particular sacredness should be attached to 
this part of life when the light of Deity streams into the 
chambers of spiritual vision with scarce an intervening ob- 
stacle, is a question which might be answered both ways. 
Wordsworth would stoutly contend for the affirmative and 
would say: — 

The thought of my past years in me doth breed 
Perpetual benediction : not, indeed, 
For that which is most worthy to be blest — 
Delight and liberty, the simple creed 
Of childhood, whether busy or at rest, 
With new-fledged hope still fluttering in its breast— 
!STot for these I raise 
The song of thanks and praise ; 
But for those obstinate questionings 
Of sense and outward things ; * # - # 
High instincts before which our mortal nature 
Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised; 
For those first affections, 
Those shadowy recollections 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 399 

Which, be they what they may, 
Are yet the fountain light of all our day, 
Are yet a master-light of all our seeing. 
Truths that wake to perish never, 
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavor, 

Nor man nor boy, 
Nor all that is at enmity with joy, 
Can utterly abolish or destroy ! 

On the other hand, Elizabeth Barrett Browning would say: 

'Tis ever a solemn thing to me 
To look upon a babe that sleeps — 
Wearing in its spirit-deeps 
The unrevealed mystery 
Of its Adam's taint and woe, 
Which, when they revealed lie, 
Will not let it slumber so. 

And James Russell Lowell would add : 

Men think it is an awful sight 

To see a soul: just set adrift 
On that drear voyage from whose night 

The ominous shadows never lift; 
But 'tis more awful to behold 

A helpless infant newly born, 
Whose little hands unconscious hold 

The keys of darkness and of morn. 

So without attempting to arbitrate between such distin- 
guished advocates, we will only remark that those who call 
the idea of childish purity all moonshine, and youthful exper- 
iences all folly, are a class of people, generally speaking, in 
whom one can see developed a marked contraction of mind 
and heart, a hardened and debasing selfishness, mingled with 
more or less of ignorant conceit; while a higher range of 
thought and a broader expansion of soul almost uniformly re- 
gards the incidents and suggestions of childhood as having a 
distinct bearing upon the unique and intimate relationship 
which this period of life is supposed to sustain to the great 
world of truth and beauty around, and the Great Source of 
truth above. 



400 



THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



As Dr. Harbaugh says: "In our early life, two worlds, the 
world without us and the world within us, meet and exchange 
their deepest sympathies. It is this that hallows the little 
world of our early life. Scenery on which our eyes have 
rested in childhood's years, while our minds and affections 
were peculiarly plastic and growing, transfers its own images 
to the mind and spirit, leaving there a bent and' a bias which 
remain part of our inmost selves." Lord Byron in "Childe 
Harold," uttered a truth when he said: 

I live not in myself, but become 
Portion of that around me : and to me 
High mountains are a feeling. 



Yea, the mountains, waves, and skies are a part 
Of me, and of my sonl, as I of them ! 

Then Longfellow, with deeper perception and truer insight, 
declares that . 

"What the leaves are to the forest, 

With light and air for food, 
Ere their sweet and tender juices 

Have been hardened into wood, 
That to the world are children; 

Through them it feels the glow 
Of a brighter and sunnier climate 

Than reaches the trunks below. 

Well exclaims the author, above-quoted, again: 

"How distinctly stands out to our mind. the Springtime of 
our childhood — its first genial days, its swelling buds, its vio- 
lets in the early freshened grass, and the return of the robin, 
the bluebird, and the swallow! 

"Then, also, how marked to memory are the Summers of 
childhood — the woods like a gentle, waving lake of green 
leaves; the twittering heat over the landscape like a. swarm of 
silver-winged insects; the fire-flies mimicking the stars at eve 
in the dewy meadow; the calm clover-fields in their glory of 
red and white blossoms inviting first the bees and then the 
mowers; the silvery, waving rye and the golden waving wheat, 




M C PH A WT® M 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 401 

and the corn in rows; the glad shout of the reaper and the 
painful whine of the dogs, responsive to the noon-day horn; 
while the gathering stillness of evening brings to the ear the 
tinkling bells and the lowing and bleating of herds returning 
to their nightly shelter! 

''Then comes Autumn "nodding o'er the yellow plain," 
looked upon as the only season of life when its sobriety brings 
no thought of sadness. For only by degrees, and in harmony 
with other processes and experiences of life, do its sober scenes 
and solemn voices breathe upon the heart the plaintive spirit 
which inspires longings toward a home left behind on earth, 
and aspirations toward a home awaited, in heaven! In child- 
hood the spirit receives the impressions of autumn scenes with 
perfect cheerfulness, as nature's calmer and serener smiles, 
and memory treasures the golden store. 

" Then comes the Winters of childhood, combining the 
sternest out-door lessons with the sweetest heart-teachings of 
the fireside. The thickly-falling flakes from the leaden clouds 
— the sheet of snow on the fields, hard and glistened by the 
sun — the piercing creak of the heavy wagon over the crisped 
and frozen road, and the merry jingle of the sleigh-bells; then 
the snow-balls, the snow-men, the snow-forts, and the athletic 
feats upon the glassy stream or pond ; the school hours and 
the school recess, with its balls, muster, battles, races, and hill- 
side sliding — all this and much more, memory calls up most 
vividly only in connection with this period of childhood. 

" These seasons are not to us, in adult life or in old age, 
what they were then. Let any one but for a moment earnestly 
analyze his present feelings, and he will find that all the high 
and solemn meaning that now lies in the passing seasons is a 
hidden meaning, and is substantially comprised in what they 
call up from the past. They are rich and pleasant and im- 
pressive, only as they revive memories of seasons gone. In 
themselves they are secular and common; but as they are like 
those which childhood knew, they are interesting, and covered 
with a soft and sacred charm. It was only childhood that could 
commune with the inner sense of these scenes, and after-life 
28 



402 THE. IMPERIAL HIGHLY. 

communes with them through the impressions and memories 
of childhood." Says Wordsworth, 

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, 
The earth, and every common sight, 

To me did seem 

Appareled in celestial light, 
The glory and the freshness of a dream. 
It is not now as it hath been of yore: 

Turn wheresoe'er we may, 

By night or day, 
The things which I b ave seen I now can see no more. 

The rainbow comes and goes, 

And lovely is the rose ; 

The moon doth with delight 
Look around her when the heavens are bare ; 

Waters on a starry night 

Are beautiful and fair ; 

The sunshine is a glorious birth; 

But yet I know, where'er I go. 
That there has passed away a glory from the earth. 

Thanks, then, for that delicious period of life when the 
heart was " free childhood's heart, fresh with the dews of ten- 
derness;" when the twin worlds of hope and joy were neither 
cursed by thorns nor disfigured by ruins; when we were not 
carrying, as now, great loads of schemes frustrated, hopes 
crushed, cares already burdensome and still accumulating, and 
an ambition ever longing with agonizing intensity, but never 
satisfied. 

Who can look back upon earlier years through the rose-tinted 
perspective of reminiscence, and not repeat with special unc- 
tion those familiar lines — 

"How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, 
When fond recollection presents them to view." 

Nor does the fact, that this delight exists more in present 
conceptions and consciousness than it did in the actual exper- 
ience, abate its fervor; the heart clings to the joyous memories 
of the past, with a fond tenacity which death alone can dimin- 
ish. Although we know that while passing through these 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 403 

scenes we were far from being happy, yet we cannot repress a 
regret at their irrevocable flight, and are easily betrayed into 
a wish that similar experiences may occupy our second child- 
hood, and smooth its passage to the tomb. 

"Oh, remembered for aye, be the Blessed Isle 

All the day of life till night; 
And when evening comes with its beautiful smile, 
And our eyes are closing to slumber awhile, 
May that 'Greenwood' of soul be in sight." 



404: THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 




CHAPTER XL 

HOUSEHOLD PETS. 

A. SKETCH. 

HOUSEHOLD pet ! Who has not had one, or what 
young heart does not thrill at the word? The three 
most natural objects of matured human love in its 
selfishness are money, breadstuff's and a partner, yet there are few 
who have not another, apart from these, apart from children 
even, an object of little or no intrinsic value, which the} 7 re- 
gard with an interest second in quality, and sometimes in 
quantity, only to that which clusters around their depository 
of supreme devotion and highest reverence. Cowper's affec- 
tion for his hares is an example of my meaning. It seems to 
be demanded by an inborn craving of human nature. The 
great and lowly, the good and bad of all time have exhibited 
the same passion, while in our day the love of pets attains a 
universality quite or nearly equal to the worship of the Penates? 
or household deities, by the ancient Latins. 

But while this affectionate admiration in man, on account 
of the multiplicity of his cares and distractions of his atten- 
tion, is dependent upon the humor of the moment and only 
produces a whimsical delight, it is far different with children. 
In them it subserves a more important mission. The Wise 
Framer of body and soul is desirous of, and provides means 
for, a harmonious development of character. Hence the in- 
tensity and changeable nature of early desires and loves. Con- 
tinued movement in any direction brings out a corresponding 
trait or characteristic. Thus eating and drinking induces hab- 
its of self-preservation and sustenance, a pursuit of novelty, 
courage, and saying prayers at night, veneration. 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. , 405 

But when these and similar wants are satisfied and their ap- 
propriate elements of character are on the highway of develop- 
ment, then some other object is needed to attract and draw out 
into visible life a rich germ of the soul still untouched, which 
blossoms into that most ennobling attribute of humanity — 
disinterested love. Kind Providence, peculiarly tender in re- 
spect to the necessities of the lambs, always supplies this de- 
mand of youthful life in its first appearance by placing an 
object within its reach, towards which it will leap and around 
it twine, like kindred particles to a magnet. This is its pet. 
"With some it is a flower; with others a dog, or bird, or lamb 
— mine was a cat. And as much superior as is our emotional 
nature to all others, so much stronger is this affection than all 
others. Oftentimes the child, as if to partially reciprocate the 
favor, lavishes upon its new-found idol all the wealth of its 
fickle, enthusiastic, yet deliciously pure heart. It forms, as it 
were, the hub into which are morticed all the spokes of home 
influences and. domestic ties. 

From earliest boyhood I had a singular sympathy with, and 
■devoted attachment for, the feline race, and especially for a 
kitten. Whether this liking proceeded from a natural affinity 
in our respective constitutions, or whether they are loveable 
creatures per se, was a point which I left undecided. But as 
Cowper said concerning his hare: — 

I kept him for his humor's sake, 

For he would oft beguile 
My heart of thoughts that made it ache, 

And force me to smile, 

so this little pet of mine never failed to produce a like pleas- 
ing impression on me when tangled in the meshes of misan- 
thropy or sorrow. Some of the brightest engravings which 
hang in the picture-gallery of my memory are those which 
photograph the scenes of my frolics with a kitten. How oft 

" In life's fair morn, ere noon had come, 
Or grief the fount of pleasure froze," 

have I gone, when pussy was lying asleep upon the cushion of 



406 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

a rocking-chair, and, kneeling down, laid my head beside hers r 
and felt the warm, soft fur on" my cheek, and heard the labored 
purring as, with bellows-like precision, she gave utterance to-, 
an inward-felt satisfaction in lulling murmurs that thrilled 
my young heart into a bliss more soothing than any. voice 
of affection in' subsequent years, though coming as it has- 
from human lips in low- toned whispers. 

At such times, I remember, I would fall into a kind of 
trance; first I would wonder what funny apparatus kitty must 
have in her throat to create the gentle music; then my ardent 
imagination, unhampered with the spectres of past evil, nor 
busy with forebodings of a doubtful future, catching tinge- 
from the current of* mysterious thought, would stretch' its- 
eagle wings and soar away, till the plumage of its pinions 
would be damp and heavy from contact with the mists that 
shroud the regions of the unknown. Thus would I linger 
in the land of shade till a harsh, complaining voice would! 
break the spell by exclaiming, ungenerously: " Get up child; 
don't be so foolish!" Alas, the chider little realized how far 
the cords of mental and social development were lengthened 
out during those few moments and by that simple process;: 
nor how many young twigs, just shooting forth from the' yet 
tender plant of character, were snapped or bent by the too 
hurried and violent interruption. 

Parents, always beware how you "quench the smoking flax," 
or crush out the precarious life of hope-and-joy-buds by reck- 
lessly sweeping over them the iron materialism of a more 
hardened nature. You can no more do so with impunity and 
safety than a gardener could go into a nursery and, prune- 
young trees into symmetry with the blunt edge of, a hoe. 
Sprouts there are to be removed, but let it be done with care 
and tenderness, by the keen knife of persuasion and love. 
More than half of all disobedience to parents is the result of 
early prejudices ripened into hate. Better far to adopt and 
carry into practice the German proverb, "The child is father 
of the man," than any opposite theory. 

I remember, too, verv distinctly, when thus torn away from. 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 407 

my delightful reverie, standing in the doorway of our humble 
cottage and casting, for the thousandth time, my eye over the 
outspread landscape, how everything appeared to be lighted 
up with a new, strange brilliancy, which was but the reflec- 
tion, doubtless, of my vision-illumined soul. Then again how 
frightened I have been when she was lying underneath the 
stove, or in the warm rays of the sun, as I sat observing with 
silent admiration those inimitable attitudes into which no ani- 
mals but cats can throw themselves with such attractiveness — 
lying curled up in an indescribable little heap, or in a spring- 
ing posture with fore paws turned in, heart-like — to suddenly 
see her eyes open and roll wildly, muscles contract and body 
jerk as if in a spasm; then, upon asking in great alarm what 
was the matter with her, to be quieted with the answer, 
"Kitty is dreaming." Strange dream, thought I, to produce 
in her and in me such aw{e)-fui sensations! 

'Twas in her livelier moods,, however, that she was wont to 
please me most; to watch her gambols when, true to instinct, 
an impulse would seize her to fancy some rattling object near 
at hand a mouse. What grace and beauty and sprightliness 
of movement, as with ears erect, tail frisking, eyes distended 
and body crouched, she'd leap and strike it with her eager paw ? 
then gallop away to stop its whirling course. These perform- 
ances never failed of creating in my heart untold rapture. 
And as I have laughed at her nimbleness and folly, very often 
puss, as if 'indignant, would cease her play for a moment and 
look up into my face with such grave and blank astonishment 
as to effectually repress my childish glee. O what would I 
not have given to have ascertained her precise amount of in- 
telligence just then? 

Again, 1 often woke at the still midnight and found out by 
endeavoring to assume a straight position and feeling a leaden 
weight, accompanied by a genial warmth upon my slightly 
cold feet, that my pet was there, as the cause of the agreeable 
effect. And how I regretted her departure, when by an un- 
timely lengthening of aching limbs, she, either fearful of dis- 
turbing my slumbers, or offended at the apparently rough 



408 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

usage, would go away abruptly and seek another couch. Never 
shall I forget that feeling of loneliness that used to creep over 
me at such moments, when upon the breathless hush of night 
would break the muffled sound of her leap from bed to floor, 
succeeded by footfalls, at lirst but scarcely perceptible, then 
growing more and more faint until their gentle echoes became 
lost in the more audible throbbings of my own heart. 

Occasionally, I would reach out and take her up to my pil- 
low and try to shield her from the biting wintry air; but 
kitty, so gentle, so entertaining in every other capacity, always 
proved an uneasy and troublesome bed-fellow. For be it 
known, that with all her good qualities, my pet was still a cat, 
and had her preferences founded upon the cat standard of 
propriety, and, I suppose, to lie with her head upon a pillow, 
and be covered up with bed-clothes, was an approach towards 
civilization altogether too near to coincide with her precon- 
ceived notions of feline dignitj^. But think you, reader, I 
shall ever forget the efforts I used to make to reconcile her to 
this arrangement? — labors that cost me hours of waking care 
and anxiety, when I might and perhaps should have been 
asleep? 

But this picture would be altogether incomplete without a 
background, and so I must proceed to bring out some of its 
darker shades. Memory brings vividly to view the sharp out- 
lines of one early pet in particular, that eclipsed all others. I 
named her Lily. She was a beautiful Maltese; sleek, nimble^ 
and graceful. I seem to see her even now. skipping and play- 
ing with an almost faultless naivete. My love for her was 
very great — too great. A mournful interest clusters around 
her memory. Its urn is covered by disappointment's gloomy 
night-shade. Sorrow's first real shadow fell upon my soul 
in connection with her. Think not, dear reader, that my 
young life was one unmingled cup of joy; many and bitter 
have been the days of grief intermixed, among which the fol- 
lowing event is prominent, because lying nearly at the bottom, 
where the glass is narrowest! 

On account of a sudden increase in the census of the tribe> 




DD M © M T 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 409 

it was decreed by my father (unfeeling man!) that Lily must be 
killed. Bat what a shock to my young sensibilities that an- 
nouncement was! I could no ( t, would not believe it, at first; 
but soon became convinced that lie was really in earnest. 
Then, vainly but agonizingly did I plead for its life; that, if 
spared, I would divide my own portion of food with her. 
My father was inexorable, — the number, he said was too large. 
Failing in this I next tried to give her away, but, alas! no 
one wanted her. Nothing now remained but the dread alter- 
native of death. 

It was on a bright summer's morning — well do I remember 
it — that Lily met her doom. Birds were singing merrily; 
the west wind sighed sweetly, and, to me, all nature seemed 
to unite with the one burden of my heart and lips: "Father? 
let her Jive! " Lily was at her usual occupation, playing, oh ? 
so prettily! upon the kitchen floor. I thought I had never 
seen her look so charmingly before. With affection's tendrils 
well-nigh snapped, -and senses sorrow-filmed, I saw her seized 
while thus engaged, and borne away. My eyes involuntarily 
follo'Wed her till out of sight. As the executioner was moving 
off to dash her head against some insensate rock — fit emblem of 
his own cruel .heart — Lily seemed to have a sudden conscious- 
ness of her fate, and, raising her sweet, blue eyes to his fierce 
orbs imploringly, asked as plainly as she could ask, — "Are 
you going to kill me?" then, tried to extricate herself from 
his grasp. I could hold out no longer. Covering my face 
with my hands, I sobbed the grief I could not speak! 

That day, the sun of hope and joy was to me shrouded in 
sackcloth. I could think of nothing else but Lily. With a 
mechanical power, I discharged the duties of its successive 
hours, till the approach of evening. But as material shades 
began to fall around, and the chirping of the cricket was heard, 
and the little flowers were drooping 'neath the weight of crystal 
dew, all emblematic of the state of my own heart, enwrapped 
with the no less tangible shadows of woe, vocalized with the 
shrill chirpings of the worm " that dieth not," and strown 
with the flowers of affection crushed under the weight of their 



410 



THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



own life — at this hour, when the world without and the world 
within were blent in sympathetic union, like a bereaved and 
weeping woman, I went forth to seek the place where they had 
laid ljer. 

Upon a green, grassy mound beside a " babbling brook," 
with water cresses waving their yellow plumes above, as deco- 
rations, was Lily's sepulchre. There she lay, cold, bloody and 
stiff. I stooped down and looked into her glassy eyes, but no 
expression returned my wondering gaze. I repeated her name, 
but saw no returning movement of recognition. I touched 
her — an icy chill went crashing to the very heart of sensation. 
Then, powers of thought returning, I asked ray soul the ques- 
tion — "Where was Lily now?" It could not be that this ob- 
ject before me was her, because the Lily I had known — my 
Lily — was full of life, activity, and beauty. This mangled 
form, indeed, resembled that which she was wont to bear, but. 
I felt, and could not persuade my heart, but that there had 
fled all loveliness, all of worth, all of Lily herself ! " Perhaps 
she will come back to me, sometime," I mentally exclaimed 
on turning away; and with this consoling thought for a "Com- 
panion I stole back to the house, crept up stairs silently to 
bed, and laid down amidst darkness, misery and mystery! 

Oh, the intuitions of fledgling intellect! To me, at that 
time, death was a new as well as unsolved enigma; yet the que- 
ries which suggested themselves to my mind while crouched 
over the lifeless body of my pet, lying unburied on the damp 
turf of the meadow, were those which have baffled the science of 
ages, and are still perplexing the investigations of the great 
and good. 

There are several practical inferences deducible from this 
subject and sketch which 'twere a pity not to draw out, as 
they will minister to the wants of the utilitarian reader, and 
serve as an appropriate ending of the endeavor. Did you ever 
take notice of a cat watching a mouse with limbs in proper 
posture, muscles and will in sympathy, all prepared for a leap, 
eyes almost immovabty fixed, breath apparently suspended,, 
starting at the slightest rustle, and all this not for a moment. 



hapi\_;ess in social life. 411 

only, but hours in succession? What better example do you 
want of perseverance, intensity of action, and that familiar 
adage, "Strike, while the iron is hot '(" And when at last 
successful, have you never observed what a look of placid tri- 
umph and satisfaction it would put on? An inspiration to 
move forward, an inwardly-strenthening energy to do and 
dare, is imparted by such a leader and scene ! 

Again, a little kitten playing with toys under a delusion that 
they are mice, is but too emblematic, reader, of you and I and 
all the world beside; chasing bubbles, hopes, and phantom 
schemes, deceived as to their true character, and slow to learn 
the truth, " that things are not what they seem." The kitten 
is urged forward in its folly by the strong impulse of nature,, 
and so are we in ours. Humiliating similitude ■■! 

I have been often moved to envy at the sight of my pet's- 
contentment and happiness, although conscious it was but the 
contentment of stupidity. While she could take comfort 
"dozin^ out idle noons," or "frisking at evening hours" 
with no dread excited by the Future, nor sorrow by the Past,. 
I was to be tormented with bitter recollections of lost oppor- 
tunities and incurred guilt, and continually fearing lest there 
should be yet in reserve some keener disappointment and more 
poignant grief. Truly did Pope sing — 

" Where ignorance is bliss 'tis folly to be wise." 

Sensibility, acuteness of perception and nicety of discrimina- 
tion are given to us here, only at the sacrifice of all perfect 
joy and contented repose. Byron wrote: 

Between two worlds, life hovers like a star 
How little do we know that which we are, 
How less what we may be ! the eternal surge 
Of time and tide rolls on, and bears afar 
Our bubbles; but as the old burs';, new emerge. 

One grade higher in nature and we reach the plane of angelic 
life and freedom, while an equal remove downwards inevitably 
deposits us side by side with the dumb, unintelligent brute. 
So much for my pet, but the love of household pets in gen- 



412 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

^ral may truly be said to be an ennobling affection of the 
mind. It indicates the existence of one chord in the soul 
which is not dead and seared, but which continues to vibrate 
responsive to tender touches of sentiment and feeling as em- 
bodied in the objects and aspects of nature around. In great 
cities, there is many a poor, fallen woman to whose heart 
and eye a little, innocent caged bird, swinging in the window, 
•or a climbing vine throwing out tendrils and blossoms toward 
the sun, constitute the last link which binds her thoughts and 
memory to the life of purity and peace which she has left 
behind. 

There is also many a poor child in an uncongenial home, to 
whom a pet of some kind acts as the preserver of her heart's 
better life. Denied the privilege of loving anybody or any- 
thing else, she showers upon her little pet the whole wealth of 
her young affections and so keeps alive within her breast that 
tenderness and sympathy of feeling which, in after life, will 
-constitute the crowning glory and excellence of her womanly 
nature. There are old people, too, and ill-mated people, and 
wretched people of all sorts, as well as some not wretched, to 
whom pets are alike valuable and necessary. It matters little 
what the loved object is, whether bird or kitten or flower, or 
•even a pretty doll, so long as it fulfills the purpose for which 
pets are designed. 

Reference was made in the foregoing sketch to the poet 
Cowper and his hares. Here is a poetical epitaph which he 
•composed on the death of one of these favorites: 

Here lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue, 

Nor swifter greyound follow, 
Whose feet ne'er tainted morning dew, 

Nor ear heard huntsman's hallo', 
Old Tiney, surliest of his kind, 

Who, nursed with tender care, 
And to domestic bounds confined, 

Was still a wild Jack-hare. 

Though duly from my hand he took 

His pittance every night, 
He did it with a jealous look 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 41 & 

And, when he could, would bite. 
On twigs of hawthorn he regaled, 
Or pippin's russet peel, 
' And, when his juicy salads failed, 
Sliced carrot pleased him well. 

Eight years, and five round rolling in Jons 

He saw thus steal away, 
Dozing out all his idle noons, 

And every night at play, 
I kept him for his humor's sake, 

For he would oft beguile 
My heart of thoughts that made it ache, 

And force me to a smile. 

But now, beneath iiis walnut shade 

He fiuds his long, last home, 
And waits, in snug concealment laid, 

Till gentler Puss shall come. 
She, still more aged, feels the shocks 

From which no care can save, 
And, partner once of Tiney's box, 

Must soon partake his grave. 

Record is made of a young lady living in California who 
had an unusual and very interesting little pet in the shape of 
a humming bird of most petite form and brilliant plumage, in 
a fancy cage of delicately-wrought and cunningly-fashioned 
lace. The bird fell from its nest when too young to fly, and 
so was easily caught. She nursed it for a week, feeding it 
every hour during the day. Taking a little vial such as is 
used for homeopathic globules from her pocket, and explain- 
ing that it was filled with thick syrup made by dissolving loaf 
sugar in a little water, she drew the cork and presented it to 
the minikin bird, which immediately inserted its slender bill,, 
almost as long as its little body, and sipped away as content- 
edly as could be, taking in all perhaps two drops. 

With old people, grandparents especially, little children are 
often the dearest, sweetest pets of all. Between old age and 
childhood there is often the closest sympathy, and earth has 
few pleasanter sights than a venerable, kind-hearted old man 
surrounded by children and grandchildren who hang on his 



414 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

neck, press their smooth, fresh cheeks to his wrinkled face, en- 
tertain him with their childish, innocent prattle, and testify 
their love for him by every word and look. Moreover, it often 
happens that these little child-pets become the leaders and 
guides of the old people to the bright and better land on high. 
"We find this thought beautifully illustrated in a little puem 
entitled "Grandfather's Pet": 

" This is the room where she slept, 

Only a year ago — 
Quiet and carefully swept, 

Blinds and curtains like snow; 
There, by the bed in the dusky gloom, 

She would kneel with her t^ny clasped hands and pray! 
Here is the little white rose of a room — 

With the fragrance fled away ! 

Efrie, Grandfather's pet, 

With her wise little face — 
I seem to hear her yet, 

Singing about the place; 
But the crowds roll on, and the streets are drear, 
.And the world seems hard with a bitter doom, 
And Effie is singing elsewhere -and here 

Is the little white rose of a room. 

• Why, if she stood just there, 

As she used to do, 
With her long, light yellow hair, 

And eyes of blue — 
If she stood, I say, at the edge of the bed, 

And ran to my side with a living touch, 
Though I know she is quiet, and buried, and dead, 

I should not wonder much. 

I wonder, now, if she 

Knows I am standing here, 
Feeling, wherever she be, 

We hold tlie plaee so dear? 
It cannot be that she sleeps too sound, 

Still in her little night-gown dressed, 
Not to hear my footsteps sound 

In the room where she u^ed to rest. 

I have felt hard fortune's stings, 
And battled in doubt and strife, 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 415 

And never thought much of things 

Beyond this human life; 
But I cannot think that my darling died 

Like great strong men with their prayers untrue — 
Nay ! rather she sits at God's own side, 

And sings as she used to do ! 

A weary path I have trod ; 

And now I feel no fear — 
For I ''annot think that God 

Is so far, since she was here! 
As I stand, I can see the blue eyes shine, 

And the small arms reach through the curtained gloom- 
While the breath of the great Lord God divine 

Stirs the little white rose of a room ! " 




416 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 



CHAPTEE XII. 

Tiie Family. 




At length his humble cot appears in view, 

Beneath the shelter of an aged tree ; 
Th' expectant wee-things, toddlin, stacher through 

To meet their dad wi' flichterin noise and glee. 
His wee bit ingle, blinkin bonnily, 

His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie wifie's smile, 
The lisping infant prattling on his knee, 

Hoes a' his weary carking cares beguile, 
An' makes him quite forget his labor an' his toil. 
• Burns. 



HE family is the oldest and most valuable institution* 
on earth. In the garden of Eden it had its origin,. 
and its founder was no less a being than God himself,, 
the Author of life and the Creator of the world. In the. begin- 
ning, God made the first pair male and female, put them to- 
gether in a common home, and commanded them to be fruitful 
and multiply. And so the world was gradually filled by the- 
increase of children and the multiplication of families and 
homes. There is not a single institution of earth, whether 
sacred or secular, but has had its rise in the family. The Church 
is simply a large Christian family. The State is nothing 
more than an aggregation of families. Family government 
is the original model of State authority, discipline and pun- 
ishment. The father of a family was the first priest and 
preacher. 

Accordingly, there can be no permanent state of human 
happiness outside of the family relation. The Nomads or 



wandering tribes of the desert, although shut out from much. 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 417 

of civilized enjoyment by their want of a steady, fixed habita- 
tion, still have separate families and find about all their com- 
fort and peace inside of their temporary home circles. The 
disposition to congregate in groups or families is manifested 
even among the lower order of creatures, although by the ab- 
sence of all moral feeling and civil regulations, there is no 
exclusiveness of affection recognized among them. Whoever 
or whatever seeks to break down or weaken the force of the 
family relation, strikes a death-blow at the existence of per- 
sonal virtue, and opens the flood-gates of evil on the world. 

Every one must have remarked that almost the strongest 
motives to well-doing, to honesty, sobriety, diligence, and good 
conduct in general, arise, with the bulk of people, from con- 
siderations connected with their families. They exert them- 
selves, they deny themselves, they are impelled to form habits 
which are of the greatest value and importance, both to them- 
selves and to society, by the strong desire that their children 
may not want anything that is needful for their bodies or their 
minds, for their present comfort and their future welfare. 
Nations expire, human governments are constantly re cast; 
political systems are built up by one generation to be pulled 
down and re-cast by another; false religions, accompanied by 
the licentious vehemence of human passions, effect the great- 
est social changes; peace and war, infidelity and revolution, 
shape and re-shape human destiny ; but amid the decay and 
the wreck, the confusion and the crimes, which constantly dis- 
figure the face of the earth, the family circle, like the ark of 
Noah, survives amid the wasting waters of universal change. 

The family begins properly with The Baby. Men and wo- 
men may love, court, marry and live together, but there is 
no family until the husband and wife can say to each other, 
" Two times one are two, and one to carry, makes three, etc." 
As some one has beautifully and truthfully said: "Woe to 
him who smiles not over a cradle. He who has never tried 
the companionship of a little child, has carelessly passed by 
one of the greatest pleasures of life, as one passes a rare flower 
without plucking it or knowing its value. The gleeful laugh 
27 



418 THE IMPERIAL IIIGIIWAT 

of happy children is the best music, and the graceful figures 
of childhood are the best statuary. We are all kings and 
queens in the cradle, and each babe is a new marvel, a new 
miracle. The size of the nestler is comic, and its tiny, be- 
seeching weakness is compensated perfectly by the one happy, 
patronizing look of the mother, who is a sort of high-reposing 
Providence to it. Welcome to parents is ilie puny struggler, 
strong in his weakness, his little arms more irresistable than 
the soldier's, his lips touched with persuasion which Chatham 
and Pericles in manhood had not. His unaffected lamenta- 
tions when he lifts up his voice on high; or, more beautiful, 
the sobbing child — the face all liquid grief, as he tries to swal- 
low his vexation — soften all hearts to pity, and to mirthful 
and clamorous compassion. The small despot asks so little 
that all reason and all nature are on his side. His ignorance 
is more charming than any knowledge, and his little sins more 
bewitching than any virtue. All day, between his three or 
four sleeps, he coos like a pigeon-house, sputters and spurs, 
puts on faces of wonderful importance, and when he fasts, like 
a little Pharisee, he fails not to sound his trumpet before him." 

Another fine writer remarks: " How much tenderness, how 
much generosity, springs into the father's heart from the cra- 
dle of his child. What is there so affecting to the noble and 
virtuous man, as that being which perpetually needs his help 
and yet cannot call for it. Inarticulate sounds, or sounds 
which he receives half- formed, he bows himself down to mod- 
ulate, he lays them with infinite care and patience not only on 
the tender, attentive ear, but on the half-open lips, on tho 
cheeks, as if they all were listeners." 

J. Gr. Holland, in his inimitable u Cradle Song," says: 

What is the little one thinking about? 
Very wonderful things, no doubt: 

Unwritten history! 

Unfathomed mystery ! 
Yet he chuckles, and crows, and nods, and winks, 
As if his head were as full of kinks, 
And curious riddles as any sphinx ! 



HAPPINESS IN SOCI2VL LIFE. 410 

Who can tell what a baby thinks ? 
Who can follow the gossamer links 

By which the manikin feels his way 
Out from the shore of the great unknown, 
Blind and wailing and alone 

Into the light of day? 
Out from the shore of the unknown sea, 
Tossing in pitiful agony; 
Of the unknown sea that reels and rolls, 
Specked with the barks of little souls : 
Barks that were launched on the other side, 
And slipped from Heaven on an ebbing tide ! 

What does he think of his mother's eyes ? 
What does he think of his mother's hair? 

What of the cradle-roof that flies 
Forward and backward through the air? 

What does he think of his mother's breast 
Bare and beautiful, smooth and white, 
Seeking it ever with fresh delight, 

Cup of his life and couch of his rest? 
What does he think when her quick embrace 
Presses his hand and buries his face 
Deep where the heart-throbs sink and swell, 
With a tenderness she can never tell, 

Though she murmur the words 

Of all the birds, 
Words she has learned to murmur well ? 

jtfow T he thinks he'll go to sleep ! 
I can see the shadow creep 
Over his eyes in soft eclipse, 
Over his brow and over his lips, 
Out to his little finger-tips! 
Softly sinking, down he goes! 
Down he goes ! Down he goes ! 
See ! He's hushed in sweet repose ! 

Now, young mother, what do you hold in your arms? A 
machine of exquisite symmetry; the blue veins revealing the 
mysterious life-tide through an almost transparent surface; 
the waking thought speaking through the sparkling eye or 
dissolving there in tears; such a form as the art of man has 
never equaled; and such a union of mind and matter as his 
highest reason fails to comprehend. You embrace a being 



420 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

whose developments may yet astonish you; who may perhaps 
sway the destiny of others; whose gatherings of knowledge 
you can neither foresee nor limit; and whose checkered lot of 
sorrow or joy are known only to the Being who fashioned 
him. 

Much has been written and spoken about the influence of 
parents upon children, but who shall write of the educating 
influences which children exert upon parents? The mother's 
first ministration for her infant is to enter, as it were, the val- 
ley of the shadow of death, and win its life at the peril of her 
own. How different must an affection thus founded, be from 
all others! As if to deepen its power, a season of languor 
ensues, when she is comparatively alone with her infant and 
with Him who gave it, cultivating an acquaintance with a 
new being, and through a new channel, with the greatest of 
all beings. Is she not also herself an image of His goodness 
while she cherishes in her bosom the young life that he laid 
there? A love whose root is in death, whose fruit must be in 
eternity, has taken possession of her. JSTo wonder that its 
effects are obvious and great. Has she been selfish? or rather,, 
has the disposition to become so been nourished by the indul- 
gence of affluence, or the adulation offered to beauty? How 
soon she sacrifices her own ease and convenience to that of 
her babe. She wakens at its slightest cry, and in its sickness - 
forgets to take sleep. 

" Night after night 
She keepeth vigil, and when tardy morn 
Breaks on her watching eye-lids, and she fain 
Would lay her down to rest, its weak complaining 
O'ercomes her weariness." 

Has she been indolent or vain? The physical care of her 
child helps to correct these faults. She patiently plies the 
needle to adorn its person. She is pleased to hear the praises 
that were once lavished on herself, transferred to her new 
darling". Has she been too much devoted to fashionable 
amusements? She learns to prize home-felt pleasures. She 
prefers her nursery to the lighted saloons and the brilliant 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 421 

throng. Has she been passionate? How can she require the 
government of temper from her child, and yet set him no ex- 
ample? When her temper has been discomposed she dreads 
the gaze of that little, pure, wondering eye, perhaps even 
more than the reproof of conscience. In a word, she has 
entered the temple of a purer happiness and become a disciple 
in a higher school. 

Says Mrs. L. H. Sigourney, " I have seen a young and beau- 
tiful mother, herself like a -brilliant and graceful flower, from 
whom nothing could divide her infant. It was to her as a 
twin-soul. She had loved society, for there she had been as 
an idol. But what was the fleeting delight of adulation to the 
deep love that took possession of her whole being? She had 
loved her father's house. There she was ever like a song-bird, 
the first to welcome the day and the last to bless it. Now, she 
wreathed the same blossoms of the heart around another home, 
and lulled her little nursling with the same inborn melodies. 

" It was sick, She hung over it. She watched it. She 
comforted it. She sat whole nights with it in her arms. It 
was to her like the beloved of the King of Israel, 'feeding 
-among the lilies.' Under the pressure of this care, there was 
in her eye a deep and holy beauty which never gleamed there 
when she was radiant in the dance, or in the halls of fashion 
the cynosure. She had been taught to love God and his wor- 
ship from her youth up; but when health again glowed in the 
face of her babe, there came from her lip such a prayer of flow- 
ing praise as it had never before breathed. 

"And when in her beautiful infant there were the first devel- 
opments of character, and of those preferences and aversions 
which leave room to doubt whether they are from simplicity 
or perverseness, and whether they should be repressed or 
pitied, there burst from her soul a supplication more earnest, 
more self-abandoning, more prevailing, than she had ever be- 
fore poured into the ear of the majesty of heaven. So the 
feeble hand of the babe that she nourished, led her through 
more profound depths of humility, to higher aspirations of 
faith." 



422 



THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



We have already given a delightfully- tender and pretty pic- 
ture of baby going to sleep; now let us look at the companion 
picture of baby awake by Wm. C. Bennett. 

Cheeks as soft as July peaches, 
Lips whose dewy scarlet teaches 
Poppies paleoess; round large eyes 
Ever great with new surprise ; 
Minutes filled with shadeless gladness, 
Minutes just as brimmed with sadness; 
Happy smiles and wailing cries, 
Crows and laughs and tearful eyes ; 
Lights and shadows, swifter born 
Than on wind-swept Autumn corn. 

Ever some new tiny notion, 
Making every limb all motion; 
Catchings up of legs and arms, 
Throw ings back and small alarms, 
Clutching fingers, straightening jerks, 
Twining feet whose each toe works, 
Kickings up and straining risings, 
Mother's ever new surprisings ; 
Hands all wants and looks all wonder 
At all things the heavens under. 

Tiny scorns of smiled reprovings 
That have more of love than lovings, 
Mischiefs doDe with such a winning 
Archness, that we prize such sinning;. 
Breakings dire of plates and glasses, 
GraspiDgs small at all that passes, 
Pullings off of all that's able 
To be caught from tray or table. 

Silences — small meditations, 

Deep as thoughts of cares for nations,. 

Breaking into wisest speeches 

In a tongue that nothing teaches, 

All the thoughts of whose possessing. 

Must be wooed to light by guessing. 

Pleasure high above all pleasure; 
Gladness brimming over gladness, 
Joy in care, delight in sadness; 
Loveliness beyond completeness 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 423 

Sweetness distancing all sweetness, 
Beauty all that beauty may be : 
That's Baby May — that's my baby. 

Although it comes not within our province to dwell at any 
length upon the care of infants, yet we cannot forbear offering 
a few suggestions taken from the experience and life of one 
of the most intelligent and truest mothers this country has 
ever produced. She says: " The duty of a mother to her babe 
begins indeed before its birth. Every irritable feeling 
should then be restrained and overflowing joy and hope be the 
daily aliment of life. Exercise among the beautiful works of 
nature, the infusion of fresh social feeling and the contempla- 
tion of the most cheerful subjects should be cherished and 
practiced by those who have the glorious hope of introducing 
into this world a being never to die ; who, already a part of them- 
selves, adds warmth and frequency to their prayers, and whom, 
'having not seen they love! ' • 

"The first months of infancy should be a season of quiet- 
ness. The unfolding organs require the nursing of silence 
and of love. The delicate system, like the mimosa, shrinks 
from every rude touch. Violent motions are uncongenial to 
the new-born. Loud, sharp sounds, and even glaring colors, 
should be excluded from the nursery. The visual and auditory 
nerves, those princely ambassadors to the mind, are still in 
embryo. 

"The first months of infancy are a spot of brightness to a 
faithful and affectionate mother; a dream of bliss, from which 
she wakes to more complicated duties; a payment for past suf- 
fering, a preparation for future toil. I heard a lady who had 
brought up a large family, say it was the ' only period of a 
mother's perfect enjoyment.' At its expiration comes denti- 
tion, with a host of physical ills. The character begins to de- 
velop; and sometimes to take on the tinge which occasional 
pain of body or fretfulness of temper impart. The little 
being takes hold upon this life of trial. Soon, its ignorance 
must be dispelled, its perceptions guided, its waywardness 
quelled, and its passions held in check. Yet, were I to define 



424 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



the climax of happiness which a mother enjoys with her infant, 
I should by no means limit it to the first three months. The 
whole season while it is deriving nutriment from her, is one 
of peculiar, inexpressible felicity. She has it in her power so 
immediately to hush its moanings, to sooth its sorrows, to 
alleviate its sickness, that she is to it as a tutelary spirit. 

"Mothers, be not anxious to abridge this halcyon period. 
Do not willingly deprive yourselves of any portion of the 
highest pleasure of which woman's nature is capable. Devote 
yourselves to the work. Have nothing to do with the fash- 
ionable evening party, the crowded hall, the changes of dress 
that put health in jeopardy. Be temperate in all things. Re- 
ceive no substance into the stomach that disorders it; no stim- 
ulant that affects the head; indulge no agitating passions. 
They change the aliment of your child. They introduce poi- 
son into the veins, or kindle fever in its blood. 

"During the first sacred year, trust not your treasure too 
much to the charge of hirelings. Have it under your super- 
intendence, both night and day. When necessarily engaged 
in other employments, let it hear your cheering, protecting 
tone. Keep it ever within the sensible atmosphere of maternal 
tenderness. Its little heart will soon reach out the slender 
radicles of love and trust. Nourish them with smiles and 
caresses, the 'small dew upon the tender grass.' When it 
learns to distinguish you by stretching its arms for your em- 
brace; when on its little tottering feet it essays to run towards 
you; above all, when the first effort of its untaught tongue is 
to form your name, mother, there is neither speech nor lan- 
guage by which to express your joy! No, no, the poverty of 
words will never be so unwise as to attempt it." 

Passing on now one step farther in our contemplation of 
family life, we find that our babies soon grow up into 

Children. 

To love children is the dictate of a nature pure and 
healthful. When not prompted by kindred blood it is a spon- 
taneous tribute to their helpnessness, their innocence, or their 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 425 

beauty. The total absence of this love induces a suspicion 
that the heart is not right. "Beware," said Lavater, "of him 
who hates the laugh of a child." "I love God and every little 
child," was the simple, yet sublime sentiment of Kichter. 
The man of the world pauses in his absorbing career and claps 
his hands to gain an infant's smile. The victim of vice gazes 
wishfully on the pure, open forehead of childhood and retraces 
those blissful years that were free from guile. The man ot 
piety loves that docility and singleness of heart which drew 
from his Saviour's lips the blessed words, "of such is the 
kingdom of heaven." 

Elliot, the apostle of the Indians, amid his laborious minis- 
try and rude companionship, shewed in all places the most 
marked attention to young children. In extreme age, when 
his head was white as the Alpine snows, he felt his heart warm 
at their approach. Many a pastor whom he had assisted to 
-consecrate, bore witness to the pathos of his appeal, the solem- 
nity of his intonation, when he charged them to feed the 
lambs. 

The love of children in man is a virtue; in woman an ele- 
ment of nature. "Love children," said Madame de Maintenon 
in her advice to the young dauphiness of France, "whether 
for a prince or a peasant it is the most amiable accomplish- 
ment." Young ladies who are usually so anxious to please, 
are rarely aware what an attraction this love, when pure and 
unstudied, imparts to their manners. For no man can see a 
young girl bestowing true and genuine affection upon a child, 
without secretly wishing he could honorably transfer it to him- 
self. It was this very trait in the character of Madame that 
won the heart of Louis the Great. When she was governess 
of his children and past the bloom of life, he surprised her 
one morning in the royal nursery sustaining with one arm the 
oldest son, then feeble from the effects of a fever, and rocking 
with the other hand a cradle in which lay the infant princess, 
while on her lap reposed a sleeping infant. His tenderness as a 
father and his susceptibility as a man, accorded to her that 
deep admiration which would have been denied to the splendor 
of dress, the parade of rank, or the blaze of beauty. 



426 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

When Home flourished, a Campanian lady, very rich and 
fond of pomp and show, being on a. visit to Cornelia, the illus- 
trious mother of the eloquent Gracchi, displayed her diamonds 
and jewels somewhat ostentatiously and inquired after those 
which belonged to Cornelia. The noble mother turned the 
conversation to another subject until the return of her sons- 
from school, when she pointed to them with pride and said to 
the lady, (l These are my jewels, and the only ornaments I ad- 
mire." It is told of John Trebonius, the German schoolmas- 
ter who instructed Martin Luther, that he always appeared 
before his boys with uncovered head. "Who can tell," said 
he, "what kind of a man may yet rise up out of this band of 
youths?" Even then, although he knew it not, there was- 
among them the " solitary monk who shook the world." " My 
cousin Mary of Scotland hath a fair son born unto her, and I 
am but a dead tree," said Queen Elizabeth, while the scowl of 
discontent darkened her brow. 

The simple fact is that neither men nor women can be de- 
veloped perfectly who have not had the discipline of bringing 
up children to maturity of life. You might as well say that 
a tree is a perfect tree without leaf or blossom, as to say that 
of a man or a woman w T ho has gone through life without ex- 
periencing the influences that come to the heart from bending 
down and giving one's self up to those who are helpless and 
little. For those "melting sentiments of kindly care" which 
seize on parents possess a wonderfully molding potency. . A 
home without children is like a lantern without light, a gar- 
den without flowers, a vine without grapes, a brook without 
water running in its channel. Says the tender and true- 
hearted Longfellow, 

Come to rae, O ye children ! 

For I hear you at your play, 
AdcI the questions that perplexed me 

Have vanished quite away. 
Ye open the eastern windows 

That look towards the sun, 
Where thoughts are singing swallows, 

And the brooks of morning run ! 



HATPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 427 

Ah! what would the world be to 119 

If the children were no more ? 
We should dread the desert behind us 

Worse than the dark before. 
Come to me, O ye children ! 

And whisper in my ear 
What the birds and the winds are singing 

In your sunny atmosphere. 

For what are all our contrivings 

And the wisdom of our books, 
When compared with your caresses 

And the gladness of your looks? 
Ye are better than all the ballads 

That ever were sung or said; 
For ye are living poems, 

And all the rest are dead ! 

We are aware that many parents may regard this view of 
children as a little too poetical- to be true to life. We know 
that the number is not few who look upon children as perfect 
torments, if not actual nuisances, and feel like echoing the 
sentiments of Beaumont and Fletcher who say in regard to 
children that "crying they creep among us like young cats, 
cares and continual crosses keeping with them;" and again^ 
that " they are like bells rung backwards, nothing but noise 
and giddiness." But while every experienced parent will 
readily admit that there is a practical, an unpoetical, and even 
a disagreeable side to children, yet at the most this is only the 
rough husk of their natures, hiding the golden kernels of value 
and goodness beneath. Let sickness or infirmity quench the 
boisterous vigor of their animal vitality for a time, or let 
death lay his dissolving hand upon their frames, and under the 
restraining discipline of the sick room or before the spirit 
takes its flight, you will be able to discover the "angels" in 
their natures which the Saviour said, "'do always behold the 
face of my Father which is in Heaven." And so Mrs. Hale 
truly declared: 

The history of Paradise 

To woman's faith is clear, 
For happy childhood ever brings 

The Eden vision near. 



42 S THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY, 

There are many heartless parents who say and feel that it's 
.always a relief to them to get their children out of the way. 
So a mother once thought who took her little girl from the 
nursery and bade her elder brother lead her away with him to 
school. There she sat upon the hard bench, her tiny feet 
swinging above the floor until the feebly-strung muscles were 
weary and in pain. She looked upon the waj 7 s of naughty 
children and imbibed from them more of evil than of good. 
As she was proceeding homeward one day her brother left her 
for a moment to slide down an ice-covered hill. He charged 
her to wait for him in the spot where he placed her. But 
soon she attempted to run to him. A pair of gay horses 
threw her down, and a loaded sleigh passing over her literally 
divided her breast. She was taken up lifeless, a crushed 
and broken flower. She was out of the way. 

Another mother in one of our country towns had a large 
family of daughters. She thought it would be a relief to her 
if but one of them were out of the way. So she selected the 
wildest to be sent to a boarding-school. She had been accus- 
tomed to rural sports and employments, and free exercise 
about her father's grounds. The impure atmosphere of a 
crowded city in summer, and close stoves in winter, the com- 
parative and enervating stillness of the whole year, induced 
a change of habits and a general declension of health. Lone: 
sitting at the piano and the rigid compression of false dress- 
ing, disturbed and weakened the powers of life. When she 
returned home on vacations, the parents exultingly observed 
how lady-like she had grown, and how much fairer she was 
than her ruddy sisters. But it was not long before spinal dis- 
ease set in, and ail muscular energy was lost. Debility and 
confinement cut her off from society and from the joys of 
life. She was out of the way. 

We have already alluded to the baleful practice of some 
parents in putting their children entirely in the care of hire- 
lings and confining them within the bounds of the nursery. 
A young mother once complained that her children were so 
numerous and so near of an age, that she had neither repose 



THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 429' 

nor comfort. She found it impossible to nurse them, and her 
husband also thought it might hurt her form. Accordingly 
the nursery was placed in the highest story of her lofty house, 
that she need not be disturbed by its noise. She said she went 
there "as often as possible, though it was excessively fatiguing 
to climb those endless stairs." But she always procured an 
ample number of nurses, without reference to expense, and 
was satisfied that they had the most excellent care. One day 
she was informed that her youngest was sick. She went to it,, 
but thought the nurse was unnecessarily alarmed. She staid 
with it as long as was in her power, considering she was en- 
gaged to a ball that evening. After she was entirely dressed 
she took pains to come up again and inquire after it. The 
nurse told her it was no better. She was sure the nurse was 
unreasonably timid. It had but a slight cough. Still she did 
not remain at the ball as late as usual or dance with her usual 
spirit. She said to her husband that such was her anxiety for 
the little one, that she should not have gone at all, had she not 
felt under the strongest obligations to attend the first enter- 
tainment of her most particular friend. At her return she 
hastened to the nurseiy. The hopeless stage of croup had 
seized the agonizing victim. Another also betrayed the same 
fatal indications. The skill of the physician and the frantic 
grief of the mother, were alike vain. With the fearful sud- 
denness which often marks the termination of the diseases of 
infancy, two beautiful beings soon lay like sculptured marble.. 
They were out of the way. 

Instead, therefore, of treating the little ones in any such 
manner, it will be better to follow the spirit and advice of the- 
following poem taken from the Scottish American Journal: 

Gather them close to your loving heart — 

Cradle them on your breast; 
They will soon enough leave your brooding care, 
Soon enough mount youth's topmost stair — 

Little ones in the nest. 

Fret not that the children's hearts are gay,, 
That their restless feet will run : 



430 HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 

There may come a time in the by and by, 
When you'll sit in your lonely room and sigh 
For a sound of childish fun ; 

When you'll long for a repetition sweet 

That sounded through each room, 
Of " Mother," " Mother," the clear love-calls 
That will echo long in the silent halls, 

And add to their stately gloom. 

There may come a time when you'll long to hear 

The eager, boyish tread, 
The tuneless whistle, the clear, shrill shout, 
The busy bustle in and out, 

And pattering overhead. 

When the boys and girls are all grown up, 

And scattered far and wide, 
Or gone to the undiscovered shore, 
Where youth and age come nevermore, 
You will miss them from your side. 

"Where and how to bring up children, has been the subject 
of many a parent's anxious thought. To all who may be still 
in doubt with regard to the matter we heartily commend the 
following suggestions from Dr. J. G. Holland: 

A very instructive story is told of the little Duke of Reich - 
stadt, the ill-starred son of the first Napoleon. He was stand- 
ing at a window of the palace where he was reared, at Vienna, 
looking out upon a scene which quite absorbed his attention. 
There had been a shower, which left in a favorable hollow of 
the street that marvelous fountain of juvenile enjoyment, a 
"mud-puddle." At the side of this squatted a little boy, 
barefoot and bare-headed, paddling in the water, sailing his 
little boats, and amusing himself after the manner of small 
boys. At this moment packages of choice gifts were brought 
into the room — gifts from friends of the little duke's imperial 
father — and the child's attention was called to them. He re- 
garded them listlessly; and when his attendants asked him if 
he did not feel very grateful to those who had so kindly re- 
membered him, he replied that he would rather go out of 
doors and play in the mud-puddle with the little boy, than to 



THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



431 



have all the gifts they could send him. That little touch of 
nature is the best thing that history records concerning Na- 
poleon II.; and if it is not strictly true, it ought to have been 
and might have been. The reply betrayed an unsatisfied hun- 
ger of a spirit, and a most unnatural nurture; and there is not 
a boy in the world who would fail to understand his feeling 
and to sympathize with it. 

All children believe in the olden chemistry, and divide mat- 
ter into four elements — earth, air, water, and fire. For all 
these they have an affection which time never obliterates, and 
which only the absorbing pursuits of adult life temporarily 
suppress. With pure air to breathe, and dirt, water, and fire 
to play with, their cup of enjoyment is as full as it can be. 
Every child, as it turns its head from its mother's breast, turns 
to these elements with an unerring instinct; and while the 
dangerous charm of fire is prudently removed till judgment 
gives the power to handle, it is no man's right to deny to the 
little neophyte air, 'dirt and water. 

One of the ordinary events of spring in the country is the 
sending off to pasturage for the season of droves of young 
cattle; kept in stalls or cooped up in oozy yards, fed upon 
husks and hay through the long winter and spring, they are 
released at last; and on some sweet May morning are driven 
away in frolicsome herds to the mountain pastures, where, 
feeding upon the tender grasses and drinking the hill-side 
water, and roaming and reveling at will, they remain until 
the autumn frosts drive them home for food and shelter. 
They go out thin, shaggy, and dirty; they return sleek and 
plump, and ready either for the knife of the butcher or for 
domestic service. It is in the pasture that the cattle and colts 
grow. They get muscle and health by roaming and feeding 
and sleeping in the open air. 

Now, in one respect, children need to be regarded and 
treated as young animals. Their particular business is to 
grow, and to grow healthy and soundly. Among the many 
obligations which a parent owes to the child he has called into 
existence, not the smallest is that of giving him, to the extent 



432 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 



of Ins ability to do so, a sound and well-developed body. "With- 
out this, wealth is of little worth, or splendid intellectual gifts, 
or* fine accomplishments, or excellent education. Without 
this, he can be of comparatively little use to the world, and of 
little comfort to himself. With it, he can be both useful and 
happy. If, therefore, country air and country exercise and 
food are essential to the sound development of the child, he 
should have them, even at the expense of some of those pos- 
sessions which parents are so apt to overrate, and so covetous- 
to secure for their offspring. Let the children be taken to' 
pasture, then, as regularly as the calves and the colts, while we 
tell with some detail what the process will do for 'them. 

The boy left free to play in the fields and woods, will, in 
a single day, run more miles and exercise healthfully more 
muscles than could be matched by the "light gymnastics" for 
a week. This he does in pure sport. Running, climbing, 
riding, swimming, rowing, tossing, batting, jumping, wrest- 
ling, fishing, see-sawing, rolling and tumbling, day after day; 
there is not a muscle in his little body that he does not bring 
into play, without a motive that urges from behind, and solely 
for the gratification of his greed for amusement. Nowhere 
can he get this free and full exercise except in the country.. 
It is impossible in the city. A child that undertakes any thing 
more than a walk in the street gets kicked by a passenger, or 
run over by a horse; and back-yards are largely devoted to- 
rubbish and clothes-lines. 

That there is virtue in water, all are ready to admit; but all 
are not so sure that there is virtue in dirt. Nevertheless, if 
there were more dabbling in dirt, the children would be health- 
ier. A dirty child is not a pleasant object to contemplate, or 
a pretty thing to kiss and caress, but he quite frequently has 
that about him which is a good deal more valuable than tidy 
clothes and a clean person. When we talk of dirty children,, 
we make no distinction between those who are made foul by 
the excretions of their skins, and those who are made thus by 
accretions from the chemical mixture which we call dirt 
Nothing is cleaner than dirt. Dirt is not filth. It soils linen 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 



and discolors the face and hand, but it is essentially as clean 
as flour, and would not injure the tenderest child if it were 
rubbed all over with it, which is more than can be said of an) 1 
of the cosmetics so freely used by the child's mother and his 
grown-up sisters. The popular theories are all wrong in 
this matter; and they. are all opposed to the unperverted in- 
stincts of the child. If we can only remember that dirt is 
not filth, but is a perfectly clean and healthy compound, we 
shall save ourselves much trouble, and do our children great 
good. 

What untold joy does the young girl have in her first house- 
keeping in the sand! What delicious pies are those which 
she makes of mud, and bakes in the sun! Brains must be 
busy; and how much better is this outworking of the mind 
in healthful play, than the drinking in of countless stories 
about impossible children who never did anything wrong, and 
always kept their clothes clean. 

The health-giving'influence of the sunlight is not to be for- 
gotten. It is impossible to know how much of the sickness 
of children reared in damp cellars and crowded rookeries of 
houses is attributable to impure air, and how much to the ab- 
sence of sunlight. It is just as impossible to know the pro- 
portionate agency of light and pure air in restoring these child- 
ren to health in the summer pasturing. 

Life in the city is an unnatural life to the child, and is 
almost certain to generate morbid appetites, especially in the 
matter of food. A life that is purely artificial in all its sur- 
roundings, and unnatural in its restraints and repressions, can 
hardly fail, in constitutions at all delicate, to induce unhealthy 
and capricious appetites. Many a city child fails to find the 
simpler viands of the table at all satisfactory. Bread and but- 
ter, bread and milk, and the plain vegetables, have no attrac- 
tions for him. He craves flesh and sweetmeats and strong 
condiments and delicate morsels; and that he may not go with- 
out food he is tempted with these and indulged in them, until 
he becomes as delicate as the food he eats. 

There is nothing that will work a reform in this matter but 
28 



434 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

life and free play in the country air. A child that plays all 
clay long, under pleasant and healthful excitement, has an ap- 
petite for the simplest and best food, and is entirely satisfied 
with it. There is probably not a country-bred man or woman 
living, who has ever found in the luxuries of later life any 
thing so sweet and satisfactory as the simple meals with which 
he satisfied the play-begotten appetite of childhood. How 
frequently the morbid appetites generated in city living 
are the basis of a destructive love of stimulants, may be left 
to each reader's estimate of probabilities. There are no data 
at hand for an intelligent decision; but that they have an im- 
portant influence in this respect, can hardly admit of rational 
doubt. 

The memory of early happiness is a treasure-house of sweet 
comforts and consolations. Its pure, simple, earnest joys be- 
come wells to draw from whenever we sit down in thirst and 
weariness by the dusty highway of life. Of this one good the 
world can never cheat us. The sunshine of those days reaches 
across our little stretch of life, and mingles its rays with those 
which beam from the heaven of our hope. The actual present 
of the adult life, and the materials which enter into it, are 
made up, more than we generally suppose, of reminiscence. 
We ruminate like the kine. We lay up in the receptacles of 
memorv abundance of undigested material, which w r e recall 
and appropriate to our refreshment and nourishment; and this 
process of reminiscence — of living life over again — grows 
upon us as we grow in years, till at last it becomes our all. 
Exhausted power has no resource but to dwell upon its old 
play and its old achievements. How sad is he who can never 
go back to his childood without a shudder; who can never re- 
call a period when his life was filled with sweet and simple 
satisfactions!" 



HArPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 435 



CHAPTER XIII. 

The Mother. 

The mother in her office, holds the key 

Of the soul ; and she it is who stamps the coin 

Of character, and makes the being who would be a savage 

But for her gentle cares, a true, strong man. 

Old Play. 

There is 
In all this cold and hollow world, no fount 
Of deep, strong, deathless love save that within 
A mother's heart. 

Mrs. Hemaists. 

My mother ! — manhood's anxious brow 

And sterner cares have long been mine, 
Yet turn I to thee fondly now 

As when upon thy bosom's shrine 
My infant griefs were gently hushed to rest, 

And thy low whispered prayers my slumber blessed. 

GrEO. W. BeTHUNE. 

And while my soul retains the power 

To think upon each faded year, 
In every bright or shadowed hour 

My heart shall hold my mother dear. 
The hills may tower— the waves may rise, 

And roll between my home and me, 
Yet shall my quenchless memories 

Turn with undying love to thee. 

Willis Gaylokd Clark. 




.OBABLY good Bishop Thomson expressed the feeling 
&J of universal human nature when he wrote that " there 
was no velvet so soft as a mother's lap, no rose so 
lovely as her smile, no path so flowery as that imprinted with 
her footsteps." Men and women frequently forget each other, 



436 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

but everybody remembers mother. The very name is so en- 
twined round our hearts that they must cease to throb ere we 
forget it! 'tis our first love; 'tis part of religion. Nature bas- 
set the mother upon such a pinnacle, that our infant eyes and 
arms are first uplifted to it; we cling to it in manhood; we 
almost worship it in old age. He who can enter an apart, 
ment and behold the tender babe feeding on its mother's 
beauty — nourished by the tide of life which flows through her 
generous veins, without a panting bosom and a grateful eye,, 
is no man, but a monster. 

Woman's charms are certainly many and powerful. The 
expanding rose, just bursting into beauty, has an irresistible 
bewitchingness; the blooming bride, led triumphantly to the 
hymeneal altar, awakens admiration and interest, and the blush 
of her cheek fills with delight; — but the charm of maternity is 
more sublime than all these. Heaven has imprinted on the 
mother's face something beyond this world, something which 
claims kindred with the skies — the angelic smile, the tender 
look, the waking, watchful eye, which keeps its fond vigil over 
her slumbering babe. 

The mother can take man's whole nature under her control- 
She becomes what she has been called, " The Divinity of In" 
fancy." Her smile is its sunshine, her words its mildest law, 
until sin and the world have steeled the heart. She can 
shower around her the most genial of all influences, and from 
the time when she first laps her little one in Elysium by clasp- 
ing him to her bosom — "its first paradise" — to the moment 
when that child is independent of her aid, or perhaps, like 
Washington, directs the destinies of millions, her smile, her 
word, her wish, is an inspiring force. A sentence of encour- 
agement or praise is a joy for a day. It spreads light upon all 
faces, and renders a mother's power more and more charm-like. 
So intense is that power that the mere rememberance of a 
praying mother's hand laid on the head in infancy, has held 
back a son from guilt when passion had waxed strong. 

The mother is the angel spirit of home. Her tender yearn- 
ings over the cradle of her infant babe, her guardian care of 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 437 

the child and youth, and her bosom companionship with the 
man of her love and choice, makes her the personal center of 
the interests, the hopes and happiness of the family. Her 
love glows in her sympathies and reigns in all her thoughts 
and deeds. It never cools, never tires, never dreads, never 
sleeps, bnt ever glows and burns with increasing ardor, like 
sweet and holy incense upon the altar of home devotion. 
And even when she is gone to her last rest, the sainted mother 
in heaven sways a mightier influence over her wayward hus- 
band or child, than when she was present. Her departed 
spirit still hovers over his affections, overshadows his path, 
and draws him by unseen cords to herself in heaven. 

Every woman in becoming a mother takes a higher place in 
the scale of being. A most important work is allotted her in 
the economy of the great human family. No longer does she 
live for self, no longer will she be noteless and unrecorded, 
passing away without name or memorial among the people. 
No longer can it be "said of her reproachfully, that " she lent 
her graces to the grave, and left the world no copy." 

Writes Mrs. Sigourney to a friend on becoming a mother: 
■" You have gained an increase of power. The influence which 
is most truly valuable, is that of mind over mind. How en- 
tire and perfect is this dominion over the unformed character 
of your infant! Write what you will upon that printless 
tablet, with your wand of love. Hitherto, your influence over 
your dearest friend, your most submissive servant, has known 
bounds and obstructions. Now, you have over a new-born 
immortal almost that degree of power which the mind exer. 
■cises over the body, and which Aristotle compares to the 'sway 
of a prince over a bond-man.' The period of this influence 
must indeed pass away; but while it lasts, make good use of it.'? 

Mothers constitute the only universal agent of civilization 
for nature has placed in her hands both infancy and youth. 
Secluded as she wisely is, from any share in the administra- 
tion of government, how shall her patriotism find legitimate 
exercise? The admixture of the female mind in the ferment 
of political ambition, would be neither safe if it were permit- 



438 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

ted, nor to be desired, if it were safe. "Nations who have 
encouraged it, have usually found their cabinet councils per- 
plexed by intrigue, or turbulent with contention. History has 
recorded instances where the gentler sex have usurped the 
scepter of the monarch, or invaded the province of the warrior. 
But we regard them either with amazement, as a planet rush- 
ing from its orbit, or with pity, as the lost Pleiad forsaking 
its happy and brilliant sisterhood. 

The vital interests of this country hang largely upon the in- 
fluence of mothers. We are exposed to the influx of vast 
hosts of foreigners who are either unfit to enjoy our free in- 
stitutions, or adverse to them in spirit. To neutralize this 
mass, to rule its fermentations, to prevent it from becoming a 
lava-stream in the garden of liberty, is a work of power and 
peril. The force of public opinion and the terrors of the law 
must hold in check these elements of danger until the effects- 
of education can restore them to order and beauty. 

Insubordination is becoming a prominent feature in many 
of our principal cities. Obedience in families, respect to mag- 
istrates, and love of country, should therefore be inculcated 
with increased energy by those who have earliest access to the 
mind. A barrier to the torrent of corruption and a guard over; 
the strong-holds of knowledge and of virtue, may be placed by 
the mother as she watches over her cradled son. Let her come 
forth with vigor and vigilance at the call of her country, not 
like Boadicea in her chariot, but like the mother of Washing- 
ton feeling that the first lesson to every incipient ruler should 
be, how to obey. The degree of diligence in preparing her 
children to be good subjects of a just government will be the 
true measure of patriotism. While she labors to pour a pure 
and heavenly spirit into the hearts that open around her, she 
knows not but she may be appointed to rear some future 
statesman for her nation's helm, or priest for the temple of 
God. 

A mother's love! who can fathom its depths? The wild storm 
of adversity and the bright sunshine of prosperity are alike to 
her; however unworthy we may be of that affection, a mother 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 439 

never ceases to love her erring child. Life affords many affect- 
ing illustrations of this truth. Of mothers it can often be said 
" they love not wisely, but too well." Here is an example. 
A widow expended on her only son all the fullness of her affec- 
tion and the little gains of her industry. She denied herself 
every superfluity that he might receive the benefits of education 
and the indulgences that boyhood covets. She sat silently by her 
small fire and lighted her single candle, and regarded him with 
intense delight, as he amused himself with his books or sought 
out the lessons for the following day. The expenses of his 
school were discharged by the labor of her hands, and glad and 
proud was she to bestow on him privileges in which her own 
youth had never been permitted to share. She believed him to 
be diligently acquiring the knowledge which she respected, 
but was unable to comprehend. His teachers and his idle 
companions knew otherwise. He, indeed, learned to astonish 
his simple and admiring parent with high-sounding, epithets 
and technical terms! and despise her for not understanding 
them. When she saw him discontented at comparing his sit- 
uation with that of others who were above him in rank, she 
almost denied herself bread that she might add a luxury to his 
table or a garment to his wardrobe. 

She erred in judgment and he in conduct, but still her 
changeless love surmounted all. When every year his heart 
grew more cold and selfish, and he returned no caress and 
even assumed an air of defiance, she strove not to perceive the 
alteration or sadly solaced herself with the reflection that "this 
was the nature of boys." 

He grew boisterous and disobedient, and began to stay 
away from the humble cottage. She sat up late for him and 
when he came, welcomed him kindly, but often during those 
long and lonely evenings she wept as she remembered his 
early years. At length it was evident that darker vices were 
making him their victim. The habit of intemperance could 
no longer be concealed, even from blinded love. The widowed 
mother remonstrated with unwonted energy, and was answered 
with words of insolence and brutality. 



4:4:0 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

He disappeared from her cottage. What she dreaded had 
come upon her. In his anger he had gone to sea. And now, 
every night when the tempest howled and the wind was high 
she lay sleepless, thinking of him. She saw him in her imagi- 
nation climbing the slippery shrouds, or doing the bidding of 
rough, unfeeling men. Again she fancied that he was sick 
and suffering with none to watch over him or have patience 
with his waywardness, and her head, with silver hairs be- 
sprinkled, bowed in grief. 

But hope of his return began to cheer her. When the new 
moon' with its slender crescent looked in -at her window, she 
said, " I think my boy will be here ere that moon is old." 
And when it waned and went away, she sighed and said, " my 
boy will remember me." 

Years fled, and there was no letter, no recognition. Some- 
times she gathered tidings from a comrade that he was on 
some far sea, or in some foreign land. But no message for his 
mother. When he touched at some port in his native country 
it was not to seek her cottage, but to spend his wages in rev- 
elry and re-embark on a new voyage. Weary years, and no 
letter. Yet she had abridged her comforts that he might be 
taught to write, and she used to exhibit his penmanship with 
such pride. But she dismissed all reproachful thoughts with 
the reflection, "it was the nature of sailors." 

Amid all these years of neglect and cruelty, Love lived on. 
When Hope refused nourishment she asked food of Memory. 
She was satisfied with crumbs from a table which must never 
be spread again. Memory brought the broken bread which 
she had gathered into her basket, when the feast of innocence 
was over, and love received it as a mendicant and fed upon it 
and gave thanks. She fed upon the cradle-smile; upon the 
first caress of infancy; upon the loving years of childhood, 
when, putting his cheek to hers, he slumbered the live-long 
night, or when teaching him to walk, he tottered with out- 
stretched arms to her bosom as a new-fledged bird to its nest. 

It was a cold night in winter, and the snow lay deep upon 
the earth. The widow sat alone by her little fireside. The 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 441 

marks of early age had settled upon her. A heavy knock 
shook her door, and ere she could open it a man entered. He 
moved with pain like one crippled, and his red and downcast 
visage was partially concealed by a torn hat. Among those 
who had been familiar with his youthful countenance, oulj one 
could have recognized him through his disguise and misery. 
The mother, looking deep into his eye, saw a faint tinge of 
that fair blue which had charmed her when it unclosed from a 
cradle-dream, and exclaimed in tones of deepest joy, "My son! 
my son! " 

But had the prodigal returned as a penitent? Alas! 
the revels that then shook the roof of his widowed par- 
ent and the profanity that disturbed her repose, told a different 
story. The remainder of his history is brief. The effects of 
vice had debilitated his constitution, and once, as he was ap- 
parently recovering from a long paroxysm of intemperance, 
apoplexy struck his heated brain and lie lay a bloated and hid- 
eous carcass. The poor mother soon faded away and followed 
him. She had watched over him with a meek, nursing pa- 
tience to the last. Her love had never turned away from him 
through years of neglect, brutality and revolting wickedness. 
"Bearing all things, believing all things, hoping all things, 
enduring all things," was its divine but misguided motto. 

Look into the records of history and biography and you will 
find but few exceptions to the rule that all great men have 
great mothers. The father's influence upon offspring is com- 
paratively feeble and insignificant to that of the mother. 
Sons usually inherit the mother's prominent traits. Sir Wal- 
ter Scott's mother was not only a superior woman but a great 
lover of poetry and painting. Byron's mother was talented 
but proud and ill-tempered. The mother of Napoleon was 
noted for her beauty and energy. The mother of John Wesley 
was so remarkable for intelligence, piety and executive ability 
that she has been called the "Mother of Methodism." The 
mother of Nero, on the other hand, was a murderess. St. 
Bernard of Clairvaut, was one of a large family of children all 
of whom were fed from the bosom of their mother. She en- 



442 THE IMPERIAL HIGIIWA.Y. 

tertained the idea that the infant imbibed with its milk some 
portion of the quality and temperament of its nurse; hence, 
while her children were young they had no attendant but her- 
self. And they all became remarkable men and women, 
though the fame of St. Bernard has eclipsed that of all the 
rest. The same is true of the first wife of Dr. Lyman Beecher, 
and hundreds of others. 

Helena, the mother of Cons tan tine the Great, was an ex- 
traordinary woman. Notwithstanding the rudeness of her 
own native realm of Britain and the low state of learning 
among her sex, she wrote several works, among which was a 
book of Greek verses; and the principles she early infused into 
the mind of that Christian Emperor, undoubtedly had great 
influence in determining his * future course. 

The mother of the illustrious Lord Bacon breathed into his 
mind in the forming period of childhood, her own love of 
learning; and while she instructed him in the rudiments of 
science, awakened that spirit of liberal curiosity and research 
which afterwards induced him to take "all knowledge to be his 
province." Her influence also on the mind of King Edward 
"VI, to whom in his early years she was governess, was emi- 
nently happy. He derived from her much of that spirit of 
zealous and consistent piety which moved her, while occupied 
with other studies, to translate from the Italian twenty-five 
sermons on abstruse and important tenets of faith. 

Baron Cavier, from the extreme feebleness of his child- 
hood, came almost constantly under the care of his mother. 
The sweetness of this intercourse dwelt on his memory 
throughout the whole of his life. She taught him to read 
fluently at the age of four years, learned him to draw, heard 
him recite in Latin, read with him the best authors, and in- 
stilled into his mind a reverence for both knowledge and 
religion. 

The agency exercised by the mother of Washington in form- 
ing that character which the world delighted to honor, is a 
subject of elevating contemplation. His undeviating integ- 
rity and unshaken self-command were developments of her 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 



own elements of character, fruits from those germs which she 
planted in the soil of his infancy. She combined Spartan 
firmness and simplicity with the deep affections of a Christian 
matron, and all this concentrated influence was brought to bear 
upon her son, who, by the early death of his father, passed 
more entirely under her discipline. He who has been likened 
to Fabius, to Cincinnatus, and other heroes of antiquity, only 
to show how he transcended each; he who caused the shades of 
Mount Vernon to be as sacred to the patriot as the shrine at 
Mecca to the pilgrim, shares his glory with her who wrought 
amono- the rudiments of his being with no idle and uncertain 
hand. The monument which now designates her last repose 
speaks eloquently to her sex, bidding them to impress the 
character of true greatness upon the next generation. It 
warns them to prepare by unslumbering efforts for their own 
solemn responsibility. Let her who is disposed to indulge in 
lassitude, or to forget that she may stamp an indelible charac- 
ter either for good or'evil on the immortal mind submitted to 
her regency, go and renounce her errors, deepen her faith and 
quicken her energies at the tomb of " Mary, the mother of 
Washington." 

Another American woman of noble name and memory, 
whose life furnishes a pattern of heroic industry and patient 
power, is Mrs. Martha Laurens Ramsay, of South Carolina. 
Her father, Col. Henry Laurens, was conspicuous as a man of 
talent and a statesman. At the age of eleven her most excel- 
lent mother died and she was placed under the care of an aunt. 
Her father went to Europe to superintend the education of his 
sons, and for eleven years she had no intercourse with him ex- 
cept by the pen. At the age of sixteen she accompanied her 
aunt to England. The war between England and her native 
country soon commencing, her father was called home and ap- 
pointed to an important station in that arduous struggle. 

While her father filled the office of President of the Conti- 
nental Congress, he wrote to his daughter to prepare for 
reverses, and if necessary to obtain her subsistence by her own 
labor. Her father, sent to England on business for this country,. 



4M THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

was thrown a prisoner into the Tower on a charge of high 
treason and was in danger of his life. Charleston was in the 
hands of the enemy; Carolina overrun by their armies; and, 
as the climax of her sorrows, news came that her beloved 
brother, John Laurens, had fallen in battle. 

Ere long, however, hope began to clawn upon the destinies 
•of her native land. Her father was released from prison and 
entrusted with public negotiations to the court of France. 
She was summoned to join him in Paris, and wdio can tell the 
rapture w T ith which for the first time for almost twelve 3<ears, 
she received his paternal embrace. The change was great 
from the privations of poverty, the toil of the nurse's chamber, 
and the solitude of a remote country village, to the head ot 
the table of a minister-plenipotentiary, in the gayest metro- 
polis of the gayest clime of Europe, but her eminent good 
sense proved equal to the demand. 

Her gratitude on her return to her native country was un- 
bounded to find it, after her ten years exile, in peace and freedom, 
and maintaining a rank among the nations of the earth. Nog 
long after, she became the wife of Dr. David Ramsay, a man 
highly respected for his eminence in science and literature, and 
capable of appreciating the worth of the companion whom he 
had chosen. Her conduct in the statiun of a wife, the mistress 
of a household, and the mother of children, shone forth as an 
example to all. She lightened the burden of her husband's 
cares, and assisted him, as far as possible, in his literary and 
professional labors. In times of general, sickness she sought 
out in various books cases of peculiar importance, and related 
them to him, or presented in one view, the opinions of stand- 
ard medical authors. 

In the first sixteen years after marriage, she became the 
mother of eleven children. In their care and education she 
was indefatigable. In every season of sickness and pain, she 
was their most watchful, tender nurse. She sought to procure 
for each a good constitution and a well-regulated mind. She 
taught them industry, and as they gained vigor, inured them 
to fatigue and occasional hardship. She required them to re- 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 445 

strain their tempers; to subject their desires to the control of 
reason and religion; to practice self-denial and to bear disap- 
pointment. 

She constantly assisted their progress in useful knowledge, 
and took the whole superintendence of their education. For 
the use of her first children she compiled a grammar of the 
English language, not finding those of Lowth and Ash, which 
were then the only ones she could obtain, adapted to the com- 
prehension of unfolding intellects. She prepared questions 
for them in ancient and modern history, which they were ex- 
pected to answer from their general knowledge, and in their own 
language. From her accurate acquaintance with French she 
excelled in it as a teacher; and for their sakes she studied the 
Greek and Latin classics, so as to become a profitable instructor 
in those languages. 

With the same ardor to advance the education of her chil- 
dren, she studied botany and refreshed her knowledge of nat- 
ural and civil history, biography, astronomy, philosophy, and 
an extensive course of voyages and travels. She gave her in- 
structions with regularity, and thus conducted her daughters 
at home through the studies and accomplishments taught at 
boarding-schools, and .her sons through a course of training 
which fitted them to enter college. A portion of each day 
was devoted to reading, and another to the practice of needle- 
work in which useful art she rendered her daughters expert 
insisting, even amidst the heat of a Carolina summer, on their 
systematic industry. 

For her astonishing amount of industrious performance, and 
her uniform excellence in every relative duty, she derived 
strength from her spirit of piety. She lived a life of prayer. 
In every important transaction, in the midst of her daily cares 
she poured her anxieties into the ear of her heavenly Father 
solicited his direction, and brought the tribute of her grate- 
ful praise. It is to the influence of such mothers as these that 
America owes its existence and its independence. As some 
one has sung: — 



44:6 THE IMFEKIAL HIGHWAY. 

"The mothers of our Pilgrim-Land, 

Their bosoms pillowed men\ 
And proud were they by such to stand 

In hammock, fort or glen. 
They shrank not from the foeman, 

They quailed not in the fight; 
But cheered their husbands through the day 

Or nursed them through the night. 
No braver dames had Sparta, 

No nobler matrons Rome!" 

In striking contrast with the example of Mrs. Ramsay is 
the conduct of many women of our own time. The number of 
wives and young women in our day is not small who look 
upon the duties, cares, pleasures and responsibilities of moth. 
erhood as irksome, disagreeable, confining, not to say a little de- 
grading in some particulars. Accordingly, these duties and 
pleasures are shunned and even prevented to an extent that 
bodes no good to the perpetutity and welfare of our nation. 
There is an evil here of alarming magnitude. One or two 
children now constitute the average family, and the birth of 
even this number is prevented whenever it can be without 
greater injury to health. The crown and glory of womankind, 
that diadem of motherly honor and dignity which has rested 
upon the sex since the first woman exclaimed in joyful tri- 
umph, " I have gotten a child from the Lord," is now being 
torn in pieces by the hand of woman herself, and trampled in 
disdain under her feet. Shame on her ! 

That woman who deliberately and willfully refuses to wear 
this glorious and holy crown of motherhood; who had rather 
idle away her time and strength in following the devious and 
senseless ways of fashion, in parading the streets and lounging 
in shops and stores, in dressing beyond the bounds of economy 
or prudence, in gratifying vain, frivolous, sensuous wishes and 
desires, than in bringing up children to clo good and thus 
throw back credit upon their parents, is unworthy of the name 
of woman, is untrue to the highest and holiest impulses of her 
own nature, is false to the design and intent of God in her 
creation. "We are aware of the fact that women must not be 
made to bear all the blame in this matter, yet as far as they 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 417 

can it is their duty and privilege alike to shrink not from the 
mingled pain and rapture by which noble sons and daughters 
are reared to fill the places made empty by death. A childless 
woman is always an object of pity, but when she makes herself 
childless through downright laziness and hatred of care, she 
becomes an object of scorn. 

One of the most touching and beautiful poems that ever 
came from the heart and pen of Cowper was evoked by the 
gift to him of his mother's picture. Let my female readers 
peruse it carefully, and then ask if any woman could wish for 
a nobler apotheosis. The poet is supposed to be holding the 
picture before him and to be talking to it thus: 

that those lips had language! Life has passed 
"With me but roughly since I heard thee last. 
Those lips are thiuc — thy own sweet smile I sec, 
The i-ame that oft in childhood solaced me; 
Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, 
'Grieve not, my chiid, chase all thy fears away!" 

My Mother! when I learned that thou wast dead, 
Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed? 
Hovered thy spirit o'er th}^ sorrowing son, 
Wretched e'en then, life's journey just begun? 
Perhaps thou gavest me, though unfelt, a kiss, 
Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss — 
Ah, that maternal smile! it answers— Yes. 

1 heard the bull to led on thy buiial day, 
I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away, 
And, turning from my nursery window, drew 
A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu! 

But was it such ?— It was. — Where thou art gone, 
Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown. 
May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore, 
The parting word shall pass my lips no more! 

Thy maidens, grieved themselves at my concern, 
Oft gave me promise of thy quick return. 
What ardently I wished, I long believed, 
And disappointed still, was still deceived. 
By expectation every day beguiled, 
Dupe of to-morrow even from a child. 
Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went, 
Till, all my stock of infant sorrow spent, 



448 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

I learned at last submission to my lot, 

But, though I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot. 

Where once we dwelt our name is heard no more,. 
Children not thine have trod my nursery floor; 
And where the gardener Robin, day by clay, 
Drew me to school along the public way, 
Delighted with my bauble coach, and wrapped 
In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet cap, 
'Tis now become a history little known, 
That once we called the pastoral house our own. 
Short-lived possession ! but the record fair 
That memory keeps of all thy kindness there, 
Still outlives many a storm, that has effaced 
A thousand other themes less deeply traced. 

Thy nightly visits to my chamber made, 

That thou might'st know me safe and warmly laidj. 

Thy morning bounties ere I left my home, 

The biscuit, or confectionary plum ; 

The fragrant waters on my cheeks bestowed 

By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and glowed, 

All this, and more endearing still than all, 

Thy constant flow of love, that knew no fall, 

Ne'er roughened by those cataracts and breaks 

That humor interposed too often makes, 

All this still legible in memory's page, 

And still to be so to my latest age. 

Could Time, his flight reversed, restore the hours, 

When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flowers, 

The violet, the pink, and jessamine, 

I pricked them into paper with a pin, 

(And thou wast happier than myself the while, 

Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head and smile) 

Could these few pleasant days again appear, 

Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here ' 

I would not trust my heart — the dear delight 

Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might — 

But no — what here we call our life is such, 

So little to be loved, and thou so much, 

That I should ill requite thee to constrain 

Thy unbound spirit into bonds again. 

Thou, as a gallant bark from Albion's coast 
(The storms all weathered and the ocean crossed) 
Shoots into port at some well havened isle, 




^©TKlEiCfl©©© 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 449 

Where spices breathe, and brighter seasons smile, 

Then sits quiescent on the floods, that show 

Her beauteous form reflected clear below, 

While airs impregnated with incense play 

Around her, fanning light her streamers gay; 

So thou, with sails how swift ! hast reached the shore, 

Where tempests never beat, nor billows roar, 

While thy loved consort on the dangerous tide 

Of life long since has anchored by thy side. 

But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest, 
Always from port withheld, always distressed — 
Me howling blasts drive devious, tempest tossed, 
Sails ripped, seams opening wide, and compass lost, 
And day by day, some current's thwarting force 
Sets me more distant from a prosperous course, 
Yet O the thought, that thou art safe, and he, 
That thought is joy, arrive what may to me. 
My boast is not, that I deduce my birth 
From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth ; 
But higher far my proud pretensions rise — 
The son of parents past into the skies. 

And now, farewell — Time unrevoked has run 
His wonted course, yet what I wished is done. 
By Contemplation's help, not sought in vain, 
I seem t' have lived my childhood o'er again ; 
To have renewed the joys that once were mine, 
Without the sin of violating thine ; 
And while the wings of fancy still are free, 
And I can view Ihis mini c show of thee, 
Time has but half succeeded in his theft— 
Thyself removed, thy power to soothe me left. 

Equally tender and loving is the tribute which E". P. 
Willis pays his mother in the following verses: 

*My birth-day !— Oh beloved mother! 

My heart is with thee o'er the seas. 
I did not think to count another 

Before I went upon thy knees — 
Before this scroll of absent years"' 
Was blotted with thy streaming tears. 

My own I do not care to check. 

I weep — albeit here alone — 
As if I hung upon thy neck, 
29 



450 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

As if thy lips were on my own, 
As if this full, sad heart of mine, 
Were beating closely upon thine. 

Four weary years ! How looks she now ? 

What light is in those tender eyes ! 
What trace of time has touch'd the brow 

Whose look is borrow'd of the skies 
That listen to her nightly prayer ? 

Oh ! when the hour to meet again 

Creeps on — and, speeding o'er the sea, 
My heart takes up its lengthen'd chain, 

And, link by link, draws nearer thee — 
When land is hail'd, and, from the shore, 

Comes off the blessed breath of home, 
With fragrance from my mother's door 

Of flowers forgotten when I come — 
When port is gain'd, and slowly now, 

The old familiar paths are pass'd, 
And, entering— unconscious how — 

I gaze upon thy face at last, 
And run to thee, all faint and weak, 

And feel thy tears upon my cheek — 
Oh ! if my heart break not with joy, 

The light of heave a will fairer seem, 
And I shall grow once more a boy; 

And, mother ! 'twill be like a dream 
That we were parted thus for years : 

And once that we have dried our tears 

How will the days seem long and bright 
To meet thee always with the morn, 

And hear thy blessing every night — 
Thy " dearest," thy " first-born ?"— 

And be no more, as now, in a strange land, forlorn I 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 451 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Household Yirtues. 

Say, what have you brought to our own fireside ? 

'Twas the mother's voice that spoke ; 
A common stock is our happiness here, 

Each heart must contribute its mite 
The bliss to swell or the pain to cheer: 
Son and daughter and husband dear, 

What have you brought to-night? 

Mrs. Sigoukney. 

To train the foliage o'er the snowy lawn; 
To guide the pencil, turn the tuneful page ; 
To rear the graces into second life; 
To give society its highest taste ; 
Well ordered home man's best delight to make, 
To raise the virtues, animate the bliss, 
And sweeteen all the toils of human life — 
This be the female dignity and praise. 

Thomson. 



V't>f 



E will begin our list of these virtues by mentioning 
/HlH^ t na t vei T useful household article formerly known and 
^pS^t recognized as family government. While reading a 
letter recently written by an American lady resident in China^ 
our attention was forcibly arrested by the following passage: 
"By the Chinese code, children, at no age, nor in any circum- 
stances, are absolved from the duty of implicit obedience to 
parents; and one who strikes or uses abusive language to his 
parents may be strangled." "Verily, then, Chinamen are our 
antipodes socially and civilly, as well as geographically; for if 
this law or custom prevailed among us, the country would 
soon be depopulated, and the cemeteries choked with strangled 
victims. 



452 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

Strict, healthy, parental discipline among American families- 
is very nearly, if not quite, a thing of the past; a virtue held 
in grateful (or painful) remembrance, but not practically exer- 
cised; and at the present rate of decrease will soon have to be 
classified with " the lost arts." The switch of the olden time: 
has given way to the sugar-plum, and coaxing has stolen the 
power of command. Children, big and little, triumphantly 
rule the household, riding sometimes roughshod over all law,, 
order and propriety, intent only upon having their own way 
and gratifying their own selfish desires, while the dazed or 
wonder-struck or negligent parents stand aside, and either 
laugh or cry at the general disarrangement of matters caused 
by the usurpation. The idea of compelling obedience at any 
sacrifice of immediate tenderness or good will, is hardly thought, 
of, much less carried out. 

And yet, " it were not always thus." What New England 
man or woman does not remember the days of early childhood 
in the old family homestead, where Puritanic sternness and 
white-robed submission reigned supreme; where family re- 
bellions and unruly children constituted the vicious exception, 
rather than the orderly rule; where domestic law w T as seldom 
broken; where honor and reverence for established authority 
were common, and where punishment for disobedience followed 
swift and sure. Ah, those were the days of fancied depriva- 
tion and irksome restraint on the part of the children, but 
days of solidity and purity on the part of household and civil 
affairs. If our fathers ever went to one extreme in this direc- 
tion, most surely we are suffering from a disastrous rebound 
to the other. 

But this matter of family government and healtlry, house- 
hold submission to constituted law, is not a matter of mere 
pleasure, convenience, or caprice, but rather a sacred, solemn, 
binding duty; a matter which concerns not the individual 
household alone, but the welfare and good order of society as 
a whole. Perhaps the most prominent offensive characteristic 
of Americans is lawlessness; a want of respect for the sanction 
of constituted authority; a heedless and willful violation of 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 453 

the eternal rules of right and righteousness, as embodied in, 
and enforced by enacted law. As a nation, we are sharp, keen, 
witty enough, perhaps; and the most of us know enough for 
the work and duties of an Ordinary life; neither are we defi- 
cient in tenderness, sympathy and benevolence towards the 
unfortunate, but we are, as a nation, supremely selfish (and 
growing more so), proud, headstrong, and impatient of re- 
straint; all of which national sins and follies have their root 
in the character of family life. The manners and customs of 
the household are projected into society, the State, and the 
church. 

It cannot be too strongly emphasized that the connection 
between home-life and civil and church life is immediate, di- 
rect and controlling. A child that grows up lawless and defi- 
ant, will become a lawless citizen and a lawless sinner. Never 
knowing what it is to bow down in humble submission to the 
majesty of constituted authority, at home, accustomed to con- 
sult only his own will and preferences, and to carry out his 
own notions, whether right or wrong, when he emerges from 
the life of the household to the higher life of a citizen, he will 
be sure to manifest the same spirit and disposition in his deal_ 
ings with the State that he exercised toward his parents; and 
if he ever becomes a Christian, he will show out the same 
traits in his attitude towards the Bible and towards God. In 
a most important sense, therefore, the whole subsequent career 
of every man and woman is determined while they are inmates 
of the parental household and subject to its discipline. If that 
discipline is weak or wanting, the whole after subjection of the 
person to lawful restraint will be fretting and irksome; if it is 
wise and wholesome, the foundation is laid for good citizen- 
ship and practical Christianity. 

x\ll politeness and good breeding in social circles displays 
itself in the easy, unconscious submission to the recognized 
laws of social intercourse. All good citizenship and political 
virtue may be defined as a love of liberty regulated by law. 
All religion is a surrender of heart and life to the control and 
•commandments of heaven. Consequently, submission to au- 



454 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

thority. in some form is the keystone to life's arch; and, where 
this is wanting, the whole structure is unsafe and liable to fall in 
at any moment. On the other hand, all vice and wrong-doing 
is a rebellion against law in some form. The universe itself 
is strung, like a bead, upon the thread of law; and any one to 
be in harmony with the world's movement must take his place 
in the line, and quietly, patiently, cheerfully wait the move- 
ments which absolute law has ordained. 

We can see from all this why the home and the family have 
so wisely been made the germ, the nucleus, and the central 
unit of life, and why everything conspires to enhance its value 
and importance. We can also see why the loss of family gov- 
ernment and pure, judicious, parental control is such a serious 
national calamity. It is because a blow is struck by this neg- 
lect at the very foundation of social order, civil prosperity, and 
religious happiness. It is because a bad, lawless home makes 
a bad, lawless citizen, and a bad, lawless Christian. No na- 
tion's welfare can be safe when men stand watching the chances 
of evasion of law as they do now. On the contrary, there 
must be inward, native reverence and respect for law before 
there can be a cheerful obedience to its requirements, and be- 
fore such obedience will bring contentment into the heart,, 
honor and uprightness into business dealings, and glory and 
perpetuity to the national life. 

Says Dr. A. P. Peabody: " Our Puritan ancestors and the 
colonists from the Old World in general brought to our shores 
the ancient notions of rigid family discipline. Unquestioning 
obedience was the law and habit of their households. Way- 
ward children fared worse with the early magistrates of New 
England than the majority of thieves and murderers fare now; 
for filial contumacy or irreverence was then regarded as an 
'iniquity to be punished by the judges.' Thence sprang that 
pervading spirit of order, which in the last century survived 
the breaking up of old institutions, which for the most part 
quietly awaited the formation of our State and national gov- 
ernments, and then peacefully transferred its former allegiance 
to the newly constituted authorities. 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 455 

"It was home-born habits alone that kept the nation out of 
the whirlpool of anarchy during the Revolutionary conflict, 
when the State governments really had very little power, nay, 
an existence so precarious that any extensive outbreaking of 
the mob-spirit would have crushed them. And had not the 
soldiers of the Revolution been for the most part trained in 
well-ordered families, they never would have laid down their 
arms, unpaid except in what they deemed worthless paper, 
but would have levied their hard-earned wages on the goods 
of the unarmed, and, not suffering themselves to be foiled by 
the impregnable virtue of their commander-in-chief, would 
have elevated some unscrupulous soldier of fortune to the 
headship of a military despotism. 

"The condition of things has sadly changed within the life- 
time of the present generation. Laws have been perpetually 
nullified. Our legislative halls have often witnessed outrages 
that would disgrace an arena of prize-fighters. Mobs have not 
infrequently taken the law into their own hands, and have 
been abetted in their violence by men of conspicuous standing. 
But as it was homes organized and governed after the divinely- 
prescribed pattern that made a republic possible on this Wes- 
tern Continent, so if the old domestic order is to be perma- 
nently reversed, if the elder are to serve the younger, if the 
whims of childhood and the caprices of youth, instead of the 
wisdom of mature experience, are to govern our families, the 
days of our republic are numbered. Undisciplined homes 
will throw the State into anarchy, and the world will have to 
wait for a successful republican government until that nation 
arises which will obey the fifth commandment of the dec- 
alogue." 

To make a well-ordered household, the parents must estab- 
lish their will as the law and do it early, for docility is im- 
paired by delay. It is the truest love to save the little stran- 
ger in this labyrinth of life all those conflicts of feeling, which 
must continue as long as it remains doubtful who is to be its 
guide. As the root and germ of piety, as a preparation for 
submission to the Eternal Father, as the subduing process 



456 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

which is to lead it in calmness through the storms and surges 
of time, teach obedience. 

It is a simple precept in philosophy that obedience should 
be the most entire and unconditional, where reason is the 
weakest. Its requisitions should be enforced in proportion to 
the want of intelligence in the subject. The parent is em- 
phatically a light to those who sit in darkness. The transi- 
tion from the dreamy existence of infancy to the earliest 
activity of childhood, is a period when parental authority is 
eminently needful to repress evil and preserve happiness. 
But it must have been established fief ore in order to be in 
readiness then. Without this rudder, the little voyager is 
liable to be thrown among the eddies of its own passions, and 
wrecked like the bark canoe. 

In saying this, however, we would not be considered as the 
advocate of austerity. Family government can be overdone 
as well as neglected. Children can be spoiled just as easily 
by a constant application of the rod of correction, as by omit- 
ting the use of it altogether. But as the substitution of your 
wisdom in the place of the wayward impulses of your child is 
the truest kindness, so it is a feature of that kindness to com- 
mence it when it may be done with the greatest ease. Gen- 
tleness combined with firmness will teach it easily to an infant, 
but wait too long and it may not be so. Obedience to a mind 
in its formative state is like the silken thread by which the 
plant is drawn toward its prop; but enforced too late it is like 
the lasso with which the wild horse is caught and subdued, 
requiring dexterity to throw and severity to manage. 

Children should early be taught the law of kindness to all 
creatures about them. Draw back the little hand lifted to 
strike the unoffending dog or cat. Perhaps they will not un- 
derstand that they are inflicting pain, but it will be best to 
cultivate in them an opposite habit. It was Benedict Arnold, 
the traitor, who in his boyhood loved to destroy insects, muti- 
late toads, steal the eggs of the mourning bird, and torture 
quiet, domestic animals, that eventually laid waste the shrink- 
ing, domestic charities and would have drained the life-blood 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 457 

of his endangered country, had he not been thwarted. " Do 
jou love me well?" the musician Mozart asked in his infancy 
of all the servants of his father, as one after the other they 
passed him in their various employments. And if any among 
them to tease him answered "no," he covered his baby-face 
and wept. 

Kind words and affectionate epithets between children of 
the same family, are important. Though the love of brothers 
and sisters is planted deep in the heart and seldom fails to re- 
veal itself on every trying emergency, yet its developments 
and daily interchange ask the regulation of paternal care. 
Competitions should be soothed, differences composed, and 
forbearance required, on the broad principal of fraternal duty. 
A pleasant story is told of the love of the Emperor Titus for 
his brother Domitian. It was the more praiseworthy because 
there was between them no congeniality of taste. Domitian 
often spoke unkindly to his brother, and after his elevation to 
the throne even attempted to instigate the army to rebellion. 
But Titus made no change in his treatment. He would not 
suffer others to mention him with disrespect. He ever spoke 
of him as his beloved brother, his successor to the empire. 
Sometimes when they were alone, he earnestly entreated him 
with tears, to reciprocate that love which he had always borne 
him, and would continue to bear him to the end of life. 

The deportment of the older children of a family is of great 
importance to the younger members. Their spirit affects 
more or less the whole circle. Especially is the position of 
the eldest daughter one of responsibility. She drank the first 
draught of the mother's love. She usually enjoys most of her 
counsel and companionship. In her absence, she is the natu- 
ral viceroy. Let the mother take double pains to form her on 
a correct model, to make her amiable, wise and good. 

Eilial love should be cherished. It has especially a soften- 
ing and ennobling effect on the masculine heart. It has been 
remarked that almost all illustrious men have been dis- 
tinguished by love for their mother. It is mentioned by Miss 
Pardoe that a " beautiful feature in the character of the Turks 



45S THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

is reverence for the mother. Their wives may advise or repri- 
mand, unheeded, but their mother is an oracle, consulted, con- 
fided in, listened to with respect and deference, honored to the 
latest hour, and remembered with affection and regret even 
beyond the grave." "Wives may die," say they, "and we 
can replace them, children perish, and others may be born to 
us, but who shall restore the mother when she passes away and 
is seen no more? " 

A mother who was in the habit of asking her children be- 
fore they retired at night what they had done through the day 
to make others happy, found her young twin daughters silent. 
The older ones spoke modestly of deeds and dispositions 
founded on the golden rule, " do unto others as you would that 
they should do unto you." Still those little, bright faces were 
bowed down in serious silence. The question was repeated 
" I can remember nothing good all this day, dear mother,, 
only one of my school-mates was happy because she had 
gained the head of the class, and I smiled on her, and ran to 
kiss her, and she said I was good. This is all, dear mother." 

The other spoke still more timidly. " A little girl who sat 
by me on the bench at school had lost a baby brother. I saw 
that while she studied her lesson she hid her face in her book 
and wept. I felt sorry and laid my face on the same book and 
wept with her. Then she looked up and was comforted and 
put her arms around my neck. But 1 do not know why she 
said that I had done her good." The mother knew how to 
prize the first blossoms of sympathy. She said, " Gome to 
my arms, beloved ones: to rejoice with those who rejoice, and 
weep with those who weep, is to obey our blessed Redeemer." 

ORDER. 

"Women were made to give our eyes delight! 
A female sloven is an odious sight. 

Young. 

The importance of this essential household virtue can best 
be illustrated by a little home-picture. " Mother, will you 
please tell me if you have seen my thimble?" "Martha, I 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 450 

thought you had a place for your thimble." " So I have, dear 
mother, but it does not happen to be in the place." 

To have a place for things and not keep them in it, is like 
having wise laws and paying no regard to them. A nation 
will not be the better for its laws unless it enforces them nor 
a child for being told its duty unless it tries to obey. 

Martha's fault was a want of order. Her working materials 
were scattered about the house. She was obliged to spend 
much time in searching for them. When the school-bell rang 
some of her books could not be found. Perhaps her bonnet, 
or shawl, or gloves, were mislaid. She felt ashamed to be so. 
often inquiring for what she ought to have kept in their own 
place. So she sometimes went without necessary articles, and 
was unprepared at school or looked slovenly in the street. 

She was a girl of good disposition. But this fault occa- 
sioned her to be much blamed. And instead of being cheer- 
ful with a consciousness of right conduct, she was often dis- 
graced and unhappy. When she grew up she carried these 
careless habits into her housekeeping. Though she had a kind 
heart, disorder and discomfort were in her family. Nothing 
was in its right place. She was always in a hurry. This is 
an evil which comes upon those who have not the spirit of 
order. Her countenance which used to be pleasant soon wore 
a troubled and bewildered expression. Wrinkles came over 
her forehead before it was time to be old. Her children imi- 
tated her and kept none of their things in the right place. 
One would complain of a lost hat or cloak, and another of a 
broken doll or lost playthings. The mother of course fretted 
loudly at them for faults which grew out of her own careless 
habits. 

Martha had a cousin, who lived near her by the name of 
Mary. They w r ere of the same age and often played together 
and sat in the same seat at school. But Mary always took 
good care of her things. When she had finished sewing, her 
needle was returned to the case and her thimble and scissors 
to the work-basket. Her clothes were folded and laid away in 
the drawers, or hung up in the closets where they belonged. 



460 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

The same was true of her school-books, pens, ink, and paper. 
If it had been dark she could have laid her hand upon all her 
things, — for she remembered their places and knew that they 
were there. She had fewer things than her cousin Martha, 
because her parents were not so rich. But she had more that 
were ready for use. Her clothes lasted longer, and looked 
more neatly. 

When- she had a house of her own, every article in it had a 
place, and all w T ho used it were required to put it back there. 
One of her first rales to her children when very young was, 
•" a place for everything, and everything in its place." And 
she obliged them to obey this rule. So her family were in 
order, and its daily labor went on like clock-work. Her coun- 
tenance was pleasant and peaceful, like one who does right. 
And though she was not as handsome as Martha, it was more 
agreeable to look at her because she was never in a hurry. Her 
quietness of mind seemed to proceed from a sense of justice, 
or of doing her duty, for we owe a duty to every article in our 
possession, and to every utensil with which we work; the duty 
of keeping them in order, and in good condition. 

In fact, there can be no comfort in a household without 
order. Study closely the following sketch of a " happy fam- 
ily" and you will discover that order and industry constituted 
the two principal ingredients in their cup of blessing. The 
sketch takes us back to farm-life in the olden time. Says the 
writer who drew the picture from life: The whole family rose 
before the sun. After an early breakfast, every one proceeded 
to the business of the day. The farmer and his sons went 
with their workmen to the field. The swift strokes of the 
churn were then heard, changing the rich cream to the gold- 
■en-colored butter. Others were watching the progress of 
the cheese from its first consolidation, to its reception in the 
press and its daily attention in the dairy. 

Above stairs the sound of the loom and the flight of the 
shuttle allured me. There various fabrics for the comfort of 
the family were wrought out, from the carpet on which they 
trod to the snowy linen that covered their bed: 2 , and the firm 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 4G1 

garments from the fleece of their sheep in which they fearlessly 
braved the cold of winter. But my delight was especially in 
the spinning room. There the wheels turned swiftly with 
merry music. She step of the spinner was light and the face 
cheerful as she drew even threads from the fair white roll, or 
the blue one that was to furnish stockings for the father and 
brothers. Masses .of yarn assorted according to its various 
texture and destination, hung upon the wall. The flying reel 
told audibly the amount of every spindle, and pronounced 
when the useful task of the day was done. 

The daughters of the family had blooming and happy coun- 
tenances. They used their strength freely in domestic toils, 
and when they went out to any distance rode well and fear- 
lessly on horseback. They seemed never to have any nervous 
complaints, or to need a physician. Exercise, the healthful 
food on which they fed, together with their own happy spirits, 
constituted their medicines. 

The mother superintended all and taught them every nec- 
essary employment by first taking part in it herself. She sent 
to market in the best order the surplus of her dairy, poultry 
yard and loom. It was her ambition that the finer parts of 
the wardrobe of herself and family should be procured with- 
out making any demands upon the purse of her husband. 
When her eldest daughters desired to have some money of their 
own to buy books and other things with, she gave them a room 
in which to rear the silk-worm, and there they tended the cu- 
rious insect which changes from a little mustard-seed egg 
to a cell of silken tapestry when it gathers up its feet to die- 

Their small skeins of silk tastefully arranged for sale imi. 
tated the colors of the rainbow, and they were delighted to 
find how soon the wand of industry could convert the mulberry 
leaf to silk, and the silk to gold. They also aided their 
younger brothers in a pursuit which interested them — the care 
of bees. Bows of hives were ranged in a sunny and genial 
spot. Beds of flowers and fragrant herbs were planted to ac- 
commodate the winged chemists. The purest honey gave va- 
riety to their table, and the surplus with the wax that was 



462 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY, 

made from the comb, were among the most salable articles of 
their domestic manufacture. 

The long winter evenings in the farmer's house were de- 
lightful. More healthy and happy faces I have never seen 
Yet there was perfect order. For the parents who commanded 
respect were always seated among the children. And in the 
corner, in the warmest place, was the silver-haired grand- 
mother with her clean cap who was counted as an oracle. 

The father or his sons read aloud such works as mingle en- 
tertainment with instruction. The females listened with in- 
terest or made remarks with animation though tiieir. busy 
hands directed the flight of the needle or made the stocking 
grow. The quiet hum of the flax-wheel was held' no interrup- 
tion to the scene, or to the voice of the reader. The neighbor 
coming in was greeted with a cordial welcome and a simple 
hospitality. Rows of ruddy apples roasted before the fire and 
various nuts from -their own forest- trees were an appropriate 
treat for the social winter-evening where heart opened to heart. 
Sometimes the smaller children clustered around the grand- 
mother's chair when she told them of the days when she was 
young, and of the changes that her life had known. 

During my visit to this well-regulated family I was often 
led to reflect on the peculiar advantages of a farmer's lot. 
Fie is the possessor of true independence. Sheltered from 
those risks and reverses which in crowded cities await those 
who make haste to be rich, he feels that patient industry will 
ensure a competent support for himself and family. His chil- 
dren are a part of his wealth. They are a capital whose value 
increases every year that they remain with him. If he incurs 
misfortune they join and help him out, instead of hanging 
round his neck like millstones to sink him into deeper waters. 
The habits which prevail in such a family, the domestic in- 
dustry, the love of home, the order and simplicity cherished, 
promote all true excellences of character. 

RESPECT FOR THE AGED. 

It is the dictate of nature to respect antiquity in anything. 
We venerate a column which has withstood the ravages of 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 463 

time. We contemplate with reverence the ivy-crowned castle 
through which the winds of centuries make melancholy music. 
We gather with care the fragments of the early history of na- 
tions which, however moldering or disjointed, have escaped 
the shipwreck of time. There are some who spare no expense 
In collecting coins and relics which rust has penetrated, or 
change of customs rendered valueless, save as they have within 
them the voice of other years. Why, then; should we regard 
with indifference the living remnants of a former age, through 
whose experience we might both be enriched and made better? 

The sympathy of a kind heart prompts respect to the aged. 
Their early and dear friends have departed. They stand alone 
with heads whitened and vigor diminished. They have es_ 
caped the deluge that overwhelmed their cotemporaries. But 
they have not passed unscathed through the water-floods. of 
time. Tender and marked attentions are due to these weary 
voyagers. They ought not to be left as the denizens of some 
solitary isle which love never visits and which the gay vessels 
newly launched on the sea of life, pass by with flaunting 
streamers and regard not. The tribute of reverence which is 
their due adds as much to the honor of him who pays, as to 
the happiness of those who receive it. 

Respect for age is best impressed on children by the exam, 
pie of their parents. From a principle of imitation, the child 
frames his manners on the model which his parents sanction. 
Their mode of treatment to their own parents is perpetuated 
in him. The neglect or reverence which their daily conduct 
exhibits, becomes incorporated with his own habits and 
character; baleful dispositions reproduce themselves: so that 
what is counted as a judgment, may be but the spontaneous 
action of a bitter root bearing its own fruit. 

Says a fine writer: "I was acquainted with the father and 
mother of a large family who, on the entrance of their own 
aged parents, rose and received them with every mark of re- 
spect. Their children beholding continually this deference 
shown to the aged, made it a part of their own conduct. Be- 
fore they were capable of comprehending the reason on which 



464: THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

it was founded, they copied it from the ever-open page of pa- 
rental example. The beautiful habit grew with their life r 
and was rewarded by the approbation of all who witnessed it. 
Especially was it cheering to the hearts of those who received 
it, and who found the chill and solitude of the vale of years 
alleviated by the tender love that walked by their side. 

"I saw the same children when their own parents became 
old. This hallowed principle, early incorporated with their 
character, bore a rich harvest for those who had sown the seed. 
The honor which from infancy they had shown to the hoary 
head, mingling with the fervor of filial affection, produced a 
delightful compensation in the influence it had exerted upon 
their own characters, as well as in the respect shown to them 
by others." 

The universal opinion of those who scrutinize the state of 
society in this country is, that in the treatment of the aged 
there is a diminution of respect. Even the authority of par- 
ents and teachers seems to be borne with uneasiness, and to be 
early shaken off. Some have supposed this change naturally 
arises from the spirit and institutions of a republic. Equal- 
ity of rank destroys many of the barriers of adventitious dis- 
tinction. But the hoary head when crowned with goodness 
and piety, is an order of nobility and marks a stage of ripened 
excellence; and should always be treated accordingly. 

The Spartans, proudly adverse to every form of delicacy and 
refinement, paid marked deference to age, especially when 
combined with wisdom. A fine tribute to their observance of 
this virtue was rendered them by the old man who, having 
been refused a seat in a crowded assembly at Athens, saw the 
rougher Lacedemonians rise in an equally dense throng and 
reverently make room for him, and said, %c the Athenians know 
what is right, but the Spartans practice it." The wandering 
sons of the American forests in their better days showed the 
deepest respect to years. Beneath each lowly roof, at every 
council-fire, the young listened reverently to the voice of the 
aged. In their most important exigencies the boldest war- 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 465 

riors, the haughtiest chieftains, consulted the hoary-headed 
men and waited for their words. 

Begin, then, with the little ones. Require them to rise and 
oner a seat when an old person enters the room; never to in- 
terrupt them when speaking, but to solicit their advice, and 
reverence their opinions. You will say that these are simple 
rules, but the lofty tree ever springs from the diminutive 
germ. The following picture of age tenderly ministered unto 
by children was drawn by the pen of Ralph Hopt: 

By the wayside, on a mossy stone, 

Sat a hoary pilgrim sadly musing ; 
Often I marked him sitting there alone, 

All the landscape like a page perusing: 
Poor, unknown ! 

Buckled knee and shoe, and broad-brimmed hat, 

Coat as ancient as the form 'twas folding; 
Silver buttons, queue, and crimped cravat, 

Oaken staff, his feeble hand upholding, 
There he sat ! 

Seemed it pitiful he should sit there, 

No one sympathizing, no one heeding, 
None to love him for his thin gray hair 

And the furrows all so mutely pleading 
Age and care. 

It was Summer and we went to school, 

Dapper country lads and little maidens ; 
When the stranger seemed to mark our play 

Some of us were joyous and some sad-hearted ; 
But one sweet spirit broke the silent spell, 
And besought him all his griefs to tell ; 

(I was then thirteen and she eleven), 
Isabel ! 

Angel, said he sadly, I am old; 

Earthly hope no longer hath a morrow; 
Yet why I sit here thou shalt be told. 
I have tottered here to look once more 

On the pleasant scenes where I disported 
In the careless happy days of yore 

Ere the garden of my heart was blighted 
To the core ! 
30 



4c6Q THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

In the co'tage yonder I was born ; 

Long my happy home, that humble dwelling; 
There were fields of clover, wheat and corn ; 

There the spring with limpid water flowing; 
Now, forlorn! 

There's the orchard where we used to climb 

When my mates and I were boys together, 
Thinking nothing of the flight of time, 

Fearing naught but work and rainy weather. 
There'd the mill that ground our yellow grain; 

Pond and river still serenely flowing; 
Cot, there nestling in the shaded lane, 

Where the lily of my heart was blowing, 
Mary Jane ! 

There's the gate on which I used to swing, 
Brook and bridge and barn and old red stable; 

But alas! no more the morn shall bring 
That dear group around my father's table — 
All have taken wing I 

Yon white spire, a pencil on the sky, 
Tracing silently life's changeful story, 

So familiar to my dim old eye 
Points me to seven that are now in glory 
There on high! 

Oft the aisle of that old church we trod, 

Guided thither by an angel mother, 
Now she sleeps beneath its sacred sod ; 

Sire and sisters and my little brother 
Gone to God ! 

There my Mary blest me with her hand 

When our souls drank in the nuptial blessing, 

Ere she hastened to the sprit-land 

With yon green turf her prostrate form now pressing, 
Leaving a broken band ! 

Isabel, said he sadly, I am old, 
And why I sit here thou hast now been told. 

I have come to see her grave once more, 
And the happy spot where we both delighted, 

And where we worshiped in the days of yore 
Ere the garden of my heart was blighted 
To the core ! 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 467 

Reader, it will indeed be a sad day for you and me if, when 
we totter thus along life's path, we have no children to love 
and cherish us, none to gather around and listen to our story 
so full of reminiscence, pathos and tenderness! It were well 
then for us, as parents, to now lay the foundation for such 
a treatment as will cheer and soothe us in the days when life 
turns to the "sere and yellow leaf," and we shall be, as 
Shakespere says, " in second childhood and mere oblivion, sans 
teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything." 




468 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



CHAPTEE XT. 

Education of Girls. 

Give me the fair one in country or city 
Whose home and its duties are dear to her heart, 
Who cheerfully warbles some pastoral ditty 
While plying the needle with exquisite art. 

Samuel Woodworth.. 

Labor is life ! 'Tis still water that faileth ; 
Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth ; 
Keep the watch wound, or the dark rust assaileth. 

Mrs. Osgood. 

'Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud : 
'Tis virtue that doth make them most admired. 

,HenryYI., Part III. 

Seek to be good, but aim not to be great ; 
A woman's noblest station is retreat; 
Her fairest virtues fly from public sight. 

Lord Lyttleton. 

Happier far than thou 

With a laurel on thy brow, 

She who makes the humblest hearth 

Lovely to- but one on earth. 

Mrs. Hema.ns. 

A 

iHERE is no one respect in which the present differs 

B& from the past more than in the domestic education of 
girls. We have already given the reader in a previous 
chapter, a picture of a happy family in the olden time, in 
which the mother and her daughters vied with each other in 
skill and efficiency in all industrial, home-like occupations. 
But in these days the aim seems to be to make girls as useless 
for domestic and housekeeping purposes as possible, and the 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 469 

more dawdling, lazy, idle, superficial and fashionable they are, 
the more completely the ambition of both mothers and daugh- 
ters in too many cases seems to be gratified. The result is 
that the support of lazy, good-for-nothing girls and women 
constitutes the heaviest burden of modern life. Young men 
do not marry and make themselves homes, because they say 
and feel that they cannot afford to — women are so averse to 
doing anything, and at the same time so extravagant in all 
their necessities and tastes. In great cities, thousands of girls 
deliberately prefer a life of shame to a life of- honorable toil. 

Therefore it is a grievous moral and social wrong when girls 
are brought up to be comparatively helpless in the household 
life. It is still worse when they come to think it not respecta- 
ble to be industrious, for then principles, as well as habits, 
have become perverted. xill girls should begin when young 
to take an interest in the concerns of the family and daily to 
do something for its comfort. They should be taught to come 
promptly and cheerfully to the aid of the mother in her cares- 
They should know something about the yearly expenses of the 
household as well as keep an accurate account of their own. 

Says a sweet and gifted mother, " Be assiduous early to im- 
plant domestic tastes in the minds of your daughters. Let 
your little girl sit by your side with her needle. Do not put 
her from you when you discharge those employments which 
are for the comfort of the family. Let her take part in them 
as far as her feeble hand may be capable. Teach her that this 
will be her province when she becomes a woman. Inspire her 
with a desire to make all around her comfortable and happy. 
Instruct her in the rudiments of that science whose results are 
=so beautiful. Teach her that not selfish gratification, but the 
good of a household, the improvement of even the humblest 
dependent, is the business of her life. When she questions 
you, repay her curiosity with clear and loving explanations. 
When you walk out to call on your friends, sometimes take 
her with you. Especially if you visit the aged or go on errands 
of mercy to the sick and poor, let her be your companion. 
jVllowher to sit by the side of the sufferer and learn those 



,470 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

nursing services which afford relief to pain. Associate her 
with you. Make her your friend. Purify and perfect your 
own example for her sake." 

No girl should consider herself properly educated until she 
has mastered some employment or accomplishment by which 
she can gain a living, should she be reduced to the necessity 
of supporting herself. And who can tell how soon this neces- 
sity may present itself before her? How many families by 
unexpected reverses have been lately reduced from affluence to 
poverty. And how pitiful and contemptible under such cir- 
cumstances to see strong women helpless, desponding, and 
embarrassing those whom it is their duty to cheer and aid. 

"I have lost my whole fortune," said a merchant, as he re- 
turned one evening to his home. " We can no longer ride im 
our carriage; we must leave this large house. The children 
can no longer go to expensive schools. What Ave are to do for 
a living I know not. Yesterday, I was a rich man. To-day,, 
there is nothing left that I can call my own." 

"Dear husband," said the good wife, " we are still rich in 
each other, and in our children. Money may pass away but 
God has given us a better treasure in these active hands and 
loving hearts." " Dear father," said the children, "do not 
look so sober. We will help you get a living." " What can 
you do, poor things?" said he. " You shall see, you shall see," 
answered several cheerful voices. " It is a pity if we have been 
to school for nothing. How can the father of eight healthy 
children be poor? We will work and make you rich again." 
" I shall help," said the youngest girl, hardly four years old. 
" I will not have any new frock bought, and I shall sell my 
great wax doll." The heart of the husband and father which 
had sunk' in. his bosom like a stone, was lifted up. The sweet 
enthusiasm of the scene cheered him, and his nightly prayer 
was like a song of praise. 

He left his stately house, and the servants were dismissed. 
Pictures and plate and rich carpets and stylish furniture were- 
all sold, and she who had been the mistress of the mansion shed 
no tear. " Pay every debt," said she, " and let no one* suffer 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 471 

through us, and we may yet be happy." The father took a 
neat cottage and a small piece of ground a few miles from a 
city. With the aid of his sons he cultivated vegetables for the 
city market. The wife who had been nurtured in wealth, be- 
came economical in her management of the household, and the 
daughters soon acquired efficiency under her training. The 
eldest ones assisted her in the work of the home, and at the 
same time instructed the younger children. Besides, they ex- 
ecuted various works which readily brought a price in the 
market. They embroidered with taste, they cultivated flowers 
and sent them to market with the vegetables, they platted 
straw, they painted maps, they executed plain needle-work. 
Every one had a post and was at it, busy and cheerful. The 
cottage was like a bee-hive. 

" I never enjoyed such health before," said the father. 
"And I was never as happy before," said the mother. "We 
never knew how many things we could do, when we lived in 
the great house," said the children, "and we love each other a 
great deal better here. You call us your little bees, and I 
think we make such honey as the heart feeds on." 

Economy, as well as industry, was strictly observed. Noth- 
ing was wasted. Nothing unnecessary was purchased. After 
a while, the eldest daughter became assistant teacher in a dis- 
tinguished female seminary, and the second took her place as 
instructress in the family. The little dwelling which had 
always been kept neat, they were soon able to beautify. Its 
construction was improved, and vines and flowering-trees were 
planted around it. The merchant was happier under its wood- 
bine-covered porch in a summer's evening, than he had been 
in his showy drawing room. 

" We are now thriving and prosperous," said he, " shall we 
return to the city?" " Ah ! no, no ! " was the unanimous re- 
ply. •" Let us remain," said the wife, " where we have found 
health and contentment." "Father," said the youngest, "all 
the children hope you are not going to be rich again. " For 
then," she added, " we little ones were shut up in the nursery 
and did not see much of you or mother. Now, we all live to- 



472 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

gether; and sister, who loves us, teaches us, and we learn to 
be industrious and useful. We were none of us as happy when 
we were rich and did not work. So, father, please not be a 
rich man any more." 

Ah! how many glad peans of thanksgiving would have gone 
np to Heaven from crushed and broken hearts during the past 
five years of unexampled financial depression if all who had 
lost property and been compelled to go into bankruptcy, had 
been blessed with families like this one to help put them on 
their feet again ! Every woman should have a practical knowl- 
edge of housework whether rich or poor, for if not overtaken 
by reverses of fortune, disorder in the kitchen department re- 
acts directly upon the parlor, and discomfort in the family 
deprives the head of it of all power of pleasant or profitable 
mental application. It is especially necessary to be sufficiently 
acquainted with the duties which we demand of others to 
know whether they are properly discharged, and when the 
wearied laborer requires repose. Novices in housekeeping 
often err in these matters. They are deceived by specious ap- 
pearances without knowing how their domestics spend their 
time; or they impose toil at the proper seasons of rest. 

"I have an excellent cook," says a young housekeeper, 
" but I think I shall have to dismiss her, she is so cross. I 
only wanted her to make me some blanc-mange and custards 
yesterday, and just because her dinner dishes were out of the 
way and her kitchen put up nice for the afternoon, she did 
nothing but murmur that I had not given her these orders 
before." When domestics are employed the dictate of reason 
and of common humanity requires that they be treated as one 
would wish to be treated, if in their place. When they give 
satisfaction they should receive their meed of praise and this 
will encourage them to continue in a right course. 

It was not the least among the virtues of the excellent Lady 
Elizabeth Hastings that she considered her servants as her 
friends and strove to elevate their characters. u She presided 
over her domestics," said her biographer, " with the disposi- 
tion of a parent. She not only employed the skill of such 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 473 

artificers as were engaged about her house to consult the com- 
fort and convenience of her servants that they might suffer no 
unnecessary hardship, but also provided for the improvement 
of their minds, the decency of their behavior, and the pro- 
priety of their manners." If a lady so accomplished as to 
have been designated in the writings of Sir Ei chard Steele as 
the "divine Aspasia," the possessor of immense wealth and a 
member of the nobility of a royal realm, thus devoted time and 
tenderness to her servants, why should those who under a re- 
publican government profess equality, fear to demean them- 
selves by similar condescension, if indeed it ought to be called 
such ? 

Every woman in advancing the happiness of her family, 
should look beyond the gratification of the present moment 
and consult their ultimate improvement. She should require 
all the members of her household to bear their part towards 
this end. The little child, too young to contribute aught be- 
side, may bring the gift of a smile, the charm of sweet man- 
ners. The kiss of the rose-lipped babe enters into the account. 
The elder children should select from their studies or from the 
books they are perusing, some portion to relate which will ad- 
minister general information or rational amusement. All, 
according to their means, should be taught to swell the stock 
of the common happiness. 

At the same time parents should consider in what true hap- 
piness consists. Mistakes are sometimes made with regard to 
its nature. There was once a mother replete with benevolence 
and the soul of affection who found her husband and children 
made happy by the pleasures of the palate. Her life was de- 
voted to that end. Elegance and unending variety character- 
ized her table. Her invention was taxed, her personal labor 
often put in requisition, for the efforts to which the genius of 
her servants was unequal. She loved the glowing smile that 
repaid her toils. The motive was affectionate: what were its 
results? In some, conviviality; in others, gluttony; in all, a 
preference of sense to spirit. 

Another mother wished to make a family of beautiful 



474 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

daughters happy. She encourged the gay amusements in 
which youth delights. Expensive dresses and rich jewelry 
were found necessary. She could not bear to see her daughters 
outshone and mortified. She taxed the purse of her husband 
beyond its capacity, and contrary to his judgment. Her prin- 
cipal argument was, " I know you love to see our young peo- 
ple happy." Her theory of happiness ended in a spirit of 
display, a necessity of excitement, a habit of competition, a 
ruinous extravagance. 

Another mother has said that from the time her little girl 
first was able to hem a handkerchief neatly, she allowed her a 
regular price for whatever she had done for the family. She 
commenced a little book in which she taught her to record her 
receipts and expenditures with mercantile punctuality; and 
perhaps this laid the foundation of an accuracy in accounts 
and capacity for business which distinguished her when she 
became a woman. But how are daughters now brought up? 
Admitting that matrimony will be their probable destination y 
is there any adaptation in their habits, tempers and tastes to 
the duties of that destination? After the gilding and garni- 
ture that adorn its entrance have become familiar, and the 
flowers that sprang up at its threshold begin to feel the frost,, 
are they prepared to become rational companions, discreet 
counselors, prudent guides, skillful housekeepers, judicious and 
affectionate mothers? If they have entered hastily or without 
counting the cost, this most responsible station, if their acqui- 
sitions whether of music, drawing, dancing, fashionable man- 
ners, personal decoration, light literature, or the surface of 
languages, have been made for the sake of display, the very 
principle on which their education has proceeded must be re- 
versed if not eradicated. Will they make the change grace- 
fully, meekly, with happiness to themselves, and those around 
them? That is the experiment. It would be kind in mothers 
not to expose daughters to hazard on subjects of such high 
import. 

A man of the world, and a close observer, once said : " When 
a ladv is married she seems in haste to dismiss whatever once 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 475- 

rendered her attractive. If she has spent much time in learn- 
ing music, she shuts up her piano. If she has excelled in 
painting, she lays aside her pencil. If she had fine manners, 
she forgets them. She puts an end to her early friendships.. 
She has no time to write a letter. Ten to one she grows care- 
less in her dress and does not reserve even neatness to comfort 
her husband. I am myself too sincere an admirer of the sex,, 
to lend a hand in the demolition of all that makes them beau- 
tiful, and so I will not marry." Accordingly, the attractions 
which first won the love of a husband should be pre- 
served, were it only for that tender remembrance. Friends 
ought not to be neglected. Correspondences need not be 
renounced. There are surely some accomplishments which 
might be retained. Why should women by carelessness or 
lassitude complain of a state for which Heaven formed them ? 

The wife of Cromwell was a most excellent and prudent 
woman and he was repeatedly sustained in arduous and trying 
situations, by her energy and dignified character. It has been 
remarked that good housewives usually acquire influence over 
their husbands, as it is natural to confide in the opinions of 
those who are distinguished in their respective spheres. And 
so men of cultivated mind, though not slow in appreciating 
the value of good housekeeping usually desire in women some 
degree of intellectual congeniality or taste. In proportion as 
they possess knowledge they will find it difficult to respect an 
ignorant companion. So convinced was Rosseau of the im- 
portance of education to domestic intercourse, that he deeply 
regretted he had not exerted himself to supply its deficien- 
cies in his wife. " I might have adorned her mind with 
knowledge," said he, "and this would have closely united 
us in retirement. It is especially in solitude that one feels- 
the advantages of living with another who can think." 

When the superfluities of life are retrenched, the time thus 
saved should not be yielded to indolence or any other modifi- 
cation of selfishness. Home should be the centre, but not 
the boundary of one's duties; the focus of sympathy, but not 
the point where it terminates. The action of the social feel- 



476 " THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

ings is essential to a well-balanced character. Morbid diseases 
are generated by an isolated life, and what is praised as love 
of home sometimes deserves the censure of a different name. 
Simple hospitality is the hand maid of friendship and of be- 
nevolence. In the social visit, heart opens to heart and all 
become sharers of secret joys and sorrows, which ceremonious 
intercourse could never have unlocked. 

In the proper education of girls why compel them to adopt 
the conventional forms of society when they subvert simplic- 
ity? Why commence a warfare against Nature almost as soon 
as she develops herself? Why help to root out that single- 
ness of heart which is the most winning and remarkable 
flower in the garden of life? We tell our young children that 
they must be polite. Again, we tell them in graver teachings 
that they must speak the truth. We throw their minds into 
a ferment of doubt to discover what is truth and what is po- 
liteness, and to draw that line which no casuist has ever drawn. 
And ere we are aware the fresh integrity of the soul escapes. 
We rebuke and punish them for insincerity. Are not the 
usages of refined society too much based upon it? Why then 
force girls into them before their time? Their social feelings 
develop but slowly, why hasten to conform them to those com- 
plex customs and hollow courtesies which are but too often 
modifications of falsehood. 

Particularly should girls acquire robustness of health and 
a good phj T sical constitution. Are women as capable of en- 
during hardship now as their mothers and grandmothers were? 
Are they as well versed in the details of housekeeping, or as 
able to bear them without fatigue? These questions affect 
the welfare of the community. For the ability or inability 
of women to discharge what the Almighty has committed to 
her, touches the equilibrium of society and the hidden springs 
of existence. Men prize more than women are aware, the 
health-beaming countenance, the elastic step, and all those 
demonstrations of domestic order in which unbroken activity 
delights. They love to see a woman equal to her own duties 
■and performing them with pleasure. They do not like to have 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 477 

the principal theme of domestic conversation a detail of phys- 
ical ills, or be expected to question like a physician into the 
variety of symptoms which have supervened since their de- 
parture. Or if this is occasionally borne with a good grace, 
where ill-health is supposed to be temporary, yet the sadden- 
ing effects of an enfeebled constitution cannot always be re- 
sisted by him who expected in his wife a " yoke-fellow," able 
to endure the rough roads and sharp ascents of life. 

The following sketch of a good sister and daughter will 
show by example what we have already endeavored to incul- 
cate by precept. " What will poor Mr. Allen do now he has 
lost his wife?" said one of the neighbors. " He is not able to 
hire a nurse and to hear the poor baby crying all the time the 
minister was at prayer, w r as quite heart-rending." "Do you 
not know," said her friend, " that Lucy, the eldest girl, has un- 
dertaken the care of it? It is truly wonderful to see one so 
young preparing its food so well,. and waking patiently in the 
night to feed it, and so anxious to learn how to nurse it when 
sick. We must go in and encourage her." 

It was a beautiful sight to see that fair young girl week after 
week nourishing the feeble infant. Sometimes when her gay 
companions urged her to go with them and spend the. even- 
ing, she would say "the baby is not quite well, and I am afraid 
to leave it so long." " I dare say it can do well enough 
awhile, without you." But Lucy would excuse herself by say- 
ing that her father looked lonely and since her mother's death 
she took more pleasure in being at home with him, than in go 
ing out as formerly. 

Lucy had not been accustomed to be disturbed in her rest- 
When she was kept awake a great part of the night, as she 
sometimes was while the babe was getting teeth, she could not 
help feeling tired and weak in the morning. But she never 
complained. She remembered how patiently her mother had 
nursed the others in their sicknesses, and tried to imitate her. 
And when the little one began to walk, and when the first 
word it lisped was her name, and when it stretched forth 



478 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

its arms to her as to a mother, she felt more than repaid for 
all her toil. 

But it was not the care of the infant alone that exercised 
Lucy's affection and patience. She had two other sisters and 
brothers to whom she tried to fill a mother's place. The sis- 
ter next to herself in age was about thirteen, and assisted 
much in the work of the family. She was not, however, 
always amiable and was sometimes jealous that Lucy attempt- 
ed to rule her. But by mildness and kindness Lucy succeeded 
in convincing her that she had only her good in view, and 
induced her to try to regulate her temper and improve her 
character. The two brothers were eleven and nine years old. 
Lucy took great care that they should have their lessons ready 
for school, and that they should be there in season, and neatly 
dressed, with clean hands and faces. She charged them not 
to keep company with bad boys, and gave them the same ad- 
rice about truth and honesty, and respect for age, and reverence 
for the sabbath, which her pious mother had given her. 

The youngest girl was scarcely six. Between herself and 
the babe there had been another who dietl, and she, in conse- 
quence, had been much indulged. Lucy felt the great impor- 
tance of having her moral training receive vigilant attention. 
She used towards her great gentleness and firmness and was 
always truthful and consistent. Soon the child became 
obedient and every day became more attached to her sister. 
The principal fault of the little girl was thoughtlessness. She 
was very liable to tear her clothes or lose her playthings. 
Lucy never upbraided her, but steadily exerted herself to 
make her think what she was doing, and to put her things in 
the right place. 

The father was greatly comforted by Lucy's goodness. 
When he told her so, she felt that it was an over-payment for 
all her toil. Her brothers and sisters as they grew up blessed 
their good sister. Whenever she was in doubt respecting her 
duty to them, she asked herself what would my dear mother 
have done? If the duty was difficult, she retired to her cham- 
ber and prayed. All who knew Lucy Allen admired her con- 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 479 

duct. The mothers wished for such a daughter and the young 
men for such a wife. She was considered more beautiful than 
those who flaunted in fine dress or sought for fashionable 
amusement; for the warmest, purest affections beamed in her 
face, and they are the true beauty of the heart. But happy 
as she was in the love of all the good, she felt the highest thrill 
of pleasure when the babe that she had raised to a healthful 
and fair child, came to her with all its little joys and sorrows, 
saying that better than all the world beside, it loved its dear 
sister -mother" 

Accordingly, we are inclined to adopt the sentiments of an- 
other who says: ''If there is one thing more than another to 
regret in the present day, it is the blunder that many kind- 
hearted but mistaken mothers are making in the bringing up 
of their daughters. They fit them for anything but the posi- 
tions they are likely to occupy. How often may the mother 
be seen busily engaged in domestic duties, working like a slave 
in seeing that the dinner is being cooked, or the house cleaned, 
in order that the children may have every luxury and do noth- 
ing ? Indeed, they hardly let the daughters soil their hands. 
The result is, that when the young woman has a house of her 
own to manage, she finds that she knows positively nothing of 
the ' ways of her house ' at all." 

To every mother we would say, let young women get tlieir 
hands in. Domestic habits will be very useful under all cir- 
cumstances, and will enable a wife to know how a house ought 
to be managed, and to see at a glance, in case she may not her- 
self be required to work, whether the servants are discharg- 
ing their duties in a proper manner. Rough work is not 
necessarily the companion of rude manners, or a vulgar 
mind. A woman is not suitable for the wife of a working 1 
man or a tradesman who cannot " look well to the ways of her 
household," or who is not expert in cutting out a shirt, mak- 
ing a pudding, or cooking a meal; and no woman is properly 
trained for a wife whose education begins and ends without 
fitting her for such duties. 

"Good looks are no substitute for the lack of good quali- 



480 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

ties. Unless a woman is acquainted to a certain extent with 
the sciences of bafce-ologj, doil-ology, mafce-ology, stitch- 
olog}^, and ?ne?id-o]ogy, it will soon be evident that she is out 
of her element. What could be expected but misery from the- 
following, selected as a sample from numerous cases: Some few 
days after a girl had been married, the husband expressed a. 
wish to have a boiled rabbit for dinner; so he called at the shop 
on his road from breakfast to the factory, and ordered one to 
be sent. When he arrived home at the usual time for dinner,, 
he was surprised to find no signs of its being ready. Judge 
of his astonishment upon going into the kitchen, to hear his 
wife say, 'Why John, I've never had such a job in all my life;, 
if I haven't been all the morning plucking the hair off this 
rabbit, and haven't done it yet. I feel ready to drop." 

Never was there a greater blunder than to substitute accom- 
plishments for domestic habits. True education should prepare 
a young woman for her peculiar duties as the companion of man 
and the nursing mother of the rising generation; she would 
then be a real treasure, instead of being, as is too often the 
case, a burden and a snare. We wish there was a greater dis- 
position on the part of young women to find employment in 
a well-regulated family rather than in the factory or the shop. 
Domestic service has many advantages over such situations. 
It is all the while fitting a girl for her ultimate sphere in life; 
and young men would do well to remember that a neat, well- 
behaved domestic servant is more likely to make a happy wife 
and a happy home, than she who ' ' likes- her liberty " and talks- 
about the drudgery of household duties. 

Mrs. Stowe, speaking on this subject, gives a capital illus- 
tration of how she was answered when trying to induce a. 
young woman, a fisherman's daughter, to take some lessons in 
washing and ironing: "My child," she said, "you will need 
to understand all kinds of housework if you are going to be 
married." She tossed her little head and said: " Indeed she 
wasn't going to trouble herself about that." "But who will 
do up your husband's shirts?" " Oh, he must put them out.. 
I'm not going to be married to make a slave of mvself." 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 481 

In contrast with this silly impudence from many flippant, 
brainless, pert young misses, look at the following picture of a 
good daughter drawn by the hand of one who knew whereof 
she spake: 

Ellen's mother died when she was scarcely thirteen years 
old. Her only brother had died the winter before. Her two 
sisters were married and had removed to so great a distance 
that she seldom heard from them. She was quite alone with 
her father. When her mother first died she felt as it she 
never could be happy again. But when she saw her father 
looking so sad, she thought it was her duty to try and comfort 
him; and when he came in tired from his work, she would set 
a chair for him and get him whatever he wanted, and speak 
pleasantly to him, as her mother used to do. 

She remembered how her mother made bread, and was am- 
bitious to make it in the same way. She took great pains to 
have it light, and to bake it well, and when she placed on the 
table the first loaf that she ever made, she could not help 
Weeping for joy to hear her father say, "Child, this tastes like 
your mother's bread." 

When the winter evenings came she swept the hearth neatly 
and placed the light on the little stand, and sat down by his 
side with her needle. Her mother had thoroughly instructed 
her in plain sewing, and while she mended or made garments 
her father read aloud to her. He began to be comforted by the 
goodness of his daughter, and she perceived that the tones of 
his voice grew more cheerful in the evening prayer and when 
he bade her good-night. 

Her father worked hard every day. She had often heard 
her mother say that they were poor and must economize. So 
as she grew older, she studied how to save expense. Her 
mother had been accustomed to sell what butter they could 
spare to a lady in the neighborhood. Ellen continued to do 
so, and the lady expressed herself much surprised that so 
young a girl should make such fine butter and send it in such 
neat order. If she ever felt fatigued with her labors, she 
would recollect her mother's example and always be pleasant 
and cheerful when her father came home. 
31 



4S2 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

"When Ellen grew to be a young woman, she was a favorite 
with all. The old and thoughtful respected her for her obe- 
dience and affection to her old parent who no longer felt lonely, 
so comfortable and cheerful had she made his home. She was 
also quite admired, for she had a good form, a healthful com- 
plexion, and the open smile of one who is in the habit of doing* 
right and feels happy at heart, which is the truest beauty. 

She was addressed by a deserving young man who had 
known her merits from childhood. To this proposal she re- 
plied, " My father is growing infirm and is able to work but 
little. I feel it my duty to take care of him as long as he 
lives. It might be a burden to others. It is a pleasure to me." 

"Ellen, it will be no burden to me. Let me help you in 
supporting him. Most gladly will I work for all." She saw 
that he was sincere, and they were married. Her husband 
had a small house and a piece of ground on which he labored. 
She kept every thing neat and in order, and w T as always pleas- 
ant and cheerful. " I have now two motives, 7 ' she said, " to 
be as good as I can, — a husband and father." 

Ellen's little children loved their grandfather. She taught 
them by her own example how T to treat him with respect. The 
warmest corner was always for him. When they saw her list- 
ening to all he said with reverence, they never thought of in- 
terrupting him or disregarding his remarks. As they grew 
older they read the Bible to him daily, for his eyesight failed. 
His explanations w T ere a treasure to them. Especially was he 
pleased when any of them learned to repeat by heart some of 
the Psalms of David. " For these," he said, " have been my 
songs in the house of my pilgrimage." Teachers and others 
who saw the children of Ellen, observed that they had better 
manners than others of the same age. They acquired them in 
a great measure from their constant propriety of deportment 
to their venerable grandfather. 

In the father's last sickness, when he was no longer able to 
raise his head from the pillow T , Ellen raised him up and sat 
behind him, wrapped her arms tenderly around him, and as he 
leaned his head upon her shoulder for the last time he grate- 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 483 

fully murmured, " The Lord bless thee aud keep thee; the 
Lord make his face to shine upon thee, and give thee peace." 
As it is the inevitable fortune of most girls to get married, 
sooner or later, we will close this chapter, especially devoted 
to them, by a few hints upon the choice of a proper husband. 
Before you link your fortune with any young man, know some- 
thing about his position, connections, pursuits, habits and 
associates. About the most fatal blunder you can commit is 
to contract a bad marriage, and yet how commonly is it done! 
Before any young man has a chance of making known his in- 
tentions, find out whether he is worth having. You can 
never live happily with a man whose habits you despise. 
Seek therefore one in whom dwelleth good qualities. 

Beware of transient young men. Recollect that one good 
farmer's boy or industrious mechanic is worth all the floating 
fops in the world. The allurements of a dandy Jack with a 
gold chain round his neck, a walking-stick in his paw, and a 
threepenny cigar in his mouth, some honest tailor's coat on his 
back, and a brainless though fancy skull, never can make up 
the loss of a good father's home and a good mother's counsel 
and the society of brothers and sisters: their affections last ? 
while that of a young man is lost in the wane of the honey- 
moon. 

Don't marry a spendthrift or a lazy, shiftless young man. 
And as a good preservative from mistake, it might be well to 
select one who has a trade and one who is also a good work- 
man at his trade. Remember he will have to keep you as well 
as himself in food, clothes, home, etc., and to do this properly 
he must be able to earn enough to secure the means of living 
comfortably. Whatever poets may say or sing of the sweets 
of poverty, it is a painful thing to be poor; and no man is jus- 
tified in expecting you to consent to be married until he gives 

you fair evidence that he has counted the cost of keeping yom 

and also of bringing up a family. 

Listen to no word of love from a man who swears, gambles, 

tipples, or associates with bad companions. Don't run the 
risk of trying to reform a man after marriage; in all proba- 



4Stt THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

bility you will be disappointed if you do. Have nothing to* 
do with a shuffler, or a man who does not say what he means. 
All kinds of deceit are wrong, and a man who manifests a 
truckling, dodging spirit is not the man to feel at home with 
a pure-minded woman. If an honest man is the noblest work 
of God, then avoid any man who can't look you fairly in the 
face, and speak out boldly the thoughts of his heart and mind. 
If he be of an excitable nature you will do well to bear in 
mind-' the old saying, that " When Greek meets Greek, then 
comes the tug of war." "Like" does not "cure like" in 
tempers, but on the contrary, contrasts frequently work better 
together. Let him be a man of sense, and he will soon learn 
to accommodate himself to your peculiarities, just as you will 
find it needful to drop into some of his ways. A man without 
some, spirit in him is not good for much; but a man who lets 
his spirit control him, instead of controlling his spirit, will 
be likely to give you some trouble. 

Lastly, in the choice of a husband seek one whom you can 
most heartily and devotedly love. Hemember that a true 
union in life is, and ever must be, a union of hearts. Marriage, 
rightly understood, is the perfected life of love between two 
kindred or suitably adapted natures. It never should be a 
mere mercenary bargain between property owners, or simply 
a society affair between two exquisite fools. Always marry 
the man whom you feel and believe will make you the most- 
happy. 

"For forced wedlock is but a hell, 

An age of discord and continual strife ; 

Whereas the contrary bringeth forth joy, 

And is a pattern of celestial peace." 

Again, it is well to know that 

"Wedded love is founded on esteem 
Which the real merits of the mind engage; 
For these are charms which never can decay." 

"Think not, a husband gained, that all is done, 
The prize of happiness must yet be won ; 
For oft the careless find it to their cost, 
That lover in a husband may be lost." 



HArPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 485 



CHAPTER XVI. 

"Words to Young- Men. 

The age of youth is the strong reign of 
Passion, when vice does ride in triumph 
Upon the wheels of vehement desire. 

Neville. 

Youth has a sprightliness and fire to boast, 
That in the valley of decline are lost ; 
And virtue with peculiar charms appears, 
Crowned with the garland of life's blooming years. 

Cowper. 

Fair laughs the morn and soft the zephyr blows, 
While proudly riding o'er the azure realm 
In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes, 
Youth at the prow, and pleasure at the helm. 

Gray. 

N" the first part of this volume we addressed many 
words to young men concerning success in business life, 
•and it now remains to point out to them the elements of 
happiness. But on a topic like this which has been treated so 
:ably by many of the best minds of the world, we shall do the 
class whom we seek to benefit better service, as well as do the 
subject itself better justice, by a wise and judicious selection, 
than by attempting anything original in the way of advice. 
Accordingly we proceed to adopt the words of one of the 
greatest and most experienced minds of the present age. The 
three chief and peculiar temptations presenting themselves be- 
fore young men, and which, if yielded to, will surely destroy 
-every vestige of happiness, are a love of ease and idleness, the 
various forms and kinds of dishonesty, and licentiousness. We 
.shall take these up in the order named. 




4S6 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

There are many kinds of idle young men. One can be seen- 
almost any day haunting sunny benches or breezy piazzas. 
The real business of this fellow is to see; his desire, to Jeseen; 
and no one fails to see him — so gaudily dressed, his hat sitting 
aslant upon a wilderness of hair like a bird half startled from 
its nest, and every thread arranged to provoke attention. He 
is a man of honor; nut that he keeps his word, or shrinks from 
meanness. He defrauds his laundress, his tailor, and his land- 
lord. He drinks and smokes at other men's expense. He 
gambles and swears, and fights — when he is too drunk to be 
afraid; but still he is a man of honor, for he has whiskers, 
looks fierce and wears mustachios. 

Another young fellow is rich, has a fine form and manly 
beauty, and the chief end of his life is to display them. With 
notable diligence he ransacks the shops for rare and curious 
fabrics, for costly seals, and chains and rings. A coat poorly 
fitted is the unpardonable sin of his creed. He meditates 
upon cravats, employs a profound discrimination in selecting 
a hat or a vest, and adopts his conclusions upon the tasteful- 
ness of a button or a collar, with the deliberation of a states- 
man. Thus caparisoned, he saunters in fashionable galleries 
or flaunts in stylish equipage, parades the streets with sim- 
pering belles and delights their itching ears with compliments 
of flattery, or with choicely-culled scandal. He is a reader of 
fiction if it be not too substantial; a writer of cards and 
billet-doux, and is especially conspicuous in albums. He is as 
corrupt in imagination as he is refined in manners; he is as- 
selfish in private as he is generous in public; and even what 
he gives to another, is given for his own sake. He worships 
where fashion worships, to-day at the theatre, to-morrow at the- 
church, as either exhibits the whitest hand or the most polished 
actor. A gaudy, active and indolent butterfly, he flutters 
without industry from flower to flower until summer closes 
and frosts sting him, and then sinks down and dies un thought 
of, unremembered, and unspeakably wretched. 

Another young man has no ambition, and is constantly idle 
from an abiding sense of despondency. He moves on from- 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 487 

day to day as if under a spell from which nothing can arouse 
him. He sits down quietly and broods over his ill-luck, and 
so drags out a miserable existence. Still another lives only to 
be on hand when others engage in sport. He joins every fish- 
ing party, and goes out with all the shooting clubs for practice. 
He attends all the ball-plays and races, when he can get 
money enough to get inside the enclosure, and when he is un- 
able to do this, he will try to look over the fence or climb 
some adjoining eminence where he sits perched in content like 
the stupid owl on some dead limb of a tree. 

Now, as against all these different forms of idleness it should 
ever be remembered by young men that while buoyant spirits 
are an element of happiness, only activity produces them; for 
they fly away from sluggishness as fixed air from open wine- 
Men's spirits are like water which sparkles when it runs, but 
stagnates in still pools and is mantled with green, breeding 
corruption and filth. The applause of conscience, the self- 
respect of pride, the consciousness of independence, a manly 
joy of usefulness, the consent of every faculty of the mind to 
one's occupation and their gratification in it — these constitute 
a happiness superior to the fever-flashes of vice in its bright- 
est moments. After an experience of ages which has taught 
nothing different, men should have learned that satisfaction is 
not the product of excess or of indolence or of riches; but of 
industry, temperance, and usefulness. Every town or village 
has instances which ou^ht to teach young men that he who 
goes aside from the simplicity of nature and the purity of 
virtue, to wallow in excesses, carousals, and surfeits, at length 
misses the errand of his life; and sinking with shattered body 
prematurely to a dishonored grave, mourns that he mistook 
exhilaration for satisfaction and abandoned the very home of 
iiappiness, when he forsook the labors of useful industry. 

Every industrious poor man is happier than an idle rich 
one, for labor makes the one more manly, and riches unmans 
the other. The slave is often happier than the master who is 
nearer undone by license, than his vassal by toil. Luxu- 
rious couches — plushy carpets from oriental looms — pillows 



488 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

of eider-down — carriages contrived with cushions and springs 
to make motion imperceptible — is the indolent master of these 
as happy as the slave that wove the carpet, the Indian who 
hunted the northern flock, or the servant who drives the pam- 
pered steeds? Let those who envy the gay revels of city idlers 
and pine for their masquerades, their routs and their operas, 
experience for a week the lassitude of their satiety, the un- 
arousable torpor of their life when not under a fiery stimulus, 
their desperate ennui and restlesss somnolency, they would 
gladly flee from their haunts as from a land of cursed enchant- 
ment. 

The imagination is closely related to the passions and fires 
them with its heat. The day-dreams of indolent youth glow 
each hour with warmer colors and bolder adventures. The im- 
agination fashions scenes of enchantment in which the pas- 
sions revel; and it leads them out, in shadows at first, to deeds 
which soon they will seek in earnest. The brilliant colors of 
far-away clouds are but the colors of the storm; the sala- 
cious day-dreams of indolent men, rosy at first and distant, 
deepen every day, darker and darker to the color of actual 
evil. Then follows the blight of every habit. Indolence 
promises without redeeming the pledge; a mist of forget- 
fulness rises up and obscures the memory of vows and oaths. 
The negligence of laziness breeds more falsehoods than the 
cunning of the sharper. As poverty waits upon the steps 
of indolence, so upon such poverty, bfood equivocations, sub- 
terfuges, lying denials. Falsehood becomes the instrument of 
every plan. Negligence of truth, next occasional falsehood, 
then wanton mendacity, — these three strides traverse the whole 
road of lies. 

Mere pleasure — sought outside of usefulness, and existing by 
itself — is fraught with poison. AVhen its exhilaration has 
thoroughly kindled the mind, the passions henceforth refuse a 
simple food; they crave and require an excitement higher than 
any ordinary occupation can give. After reveling all night in 
wine-dreams or amid the fascinations of the dance, or the de- 
ceptions of the drama, what has the dull store or the dirty 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 489 

^shop which can continue the pulse at this fever-heat of de- 
light? The face of Pleasure to the youthful imagination is 
the face of an angel, a paradise of smiles, a home of love; while 
the rugged face of Industry, embrowned by toil, is dull and re- 
pulsive : but at the end it is not so. Those are harlot charms 
which Pleasure wears. At last when Industry shall put on 
her beautiful garments and rest in the palace which her own 
liands have built, Pleasure, blotched and diseased with indul- 
gence, shall lie down and die upon the dung-hill. 

Surely, despondency is a grevious thing and a heavy load to 
bear. To see disaster and wreck in the present and no light 
in the future, but only storms, lurid by the contrast of past 
prosperity, and growing darker as they advance; — to wear a 
constant expectation of woe like a girdle; to see want at the 
door imperiously knocking, while there is no strength to repel, 
or courage to bear its tyranny; — indeed, this is dreadful 
enough. But there is a thing more dreadful. It is more 
dreadful if the man is wrecked with his fortune. Can any- 
thing be more poignant in anticipation than one's ownself un- 
nerved, cowed down and slackened to utter pliancy, and help- 
lessly drifting and driven down the troubled sea of life? Of 
all things on earth next to his God, a broken man should cling 
to a courageous industry. If it brings nothing back and saves 
nothing, it will save Mm. 

To be pressed down by adversity has nothing in it of dis- 
grace; but it is disgraceful to lie down under it like a supple 
dog. Indeed, to stand composedly in the storm amidst its 
rage and wildest devastations; to let it beat over you and roar 
.around you and pass by you and leave you undismayed, — this 
is to be a man. The ant will repair his dwelling as often as 
"the mischievous foot crushes it; the spider will exhaust life 
itself before he will live without a web; the bee can be decoyed 
from his labor neither by plenty nor scarcity. Every idle 
young man should be ashamed to be rebuked in this respect 
by the spider, the ant, and the bee. 

So much for the connection of industry and happiness. But 
the influence of strict honesty upon a happy life, is more im- 



490 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

portant still. Every one knows that periodic seasons of com- 
mercial and financial prosperity and adversity pass over the- 
world, as sunshine and shadow chase each other over the wav- 
ing field of grass or grain. As a nation, we have just been 
reaping the harvest-field of dishonesty and disaster. (1878.) 
During and after the war, there rested upon the country a. 
seeming summer of inflated prosperity which made many men 
forget that a winter of financial depression and "hard times '* 
could ever come. For many years, each day grew brighter. 
!No reins were put upon the imagination. Its dreams passed 
for realities. Even sober men touched with wildness seemed 
to expect a realization of oriental tales. But upon this bright, 
day came sudden frosts, storms, and blight. Men awoke from 
gorgeous dreams in the midst of desolation. The harvests of 
years were swept away in a day. The strongest firms were 
rent as easily as the oak by lightning. Speculating companies- 
were dispersed as seared leaves from a tree in autumn. Mer- 
chants were ruined by thousands; clerks turned adrift by ten 
thousands.- Mechanics were left in idleness. The wide sea. 
of commerce was stagnant. 

Out of this reverse swarmed an unnumbered host of dis- 
honest men like vermin from a carcass. Banks were exploded 
— robbed — or fleeced by astounding forgeries. Mighty com- 
panies without cohesion went to pieces, and hordes of wretches 
snatched up every bale that came ashore. Cities and towns 
were filled up by troops of villains. The unparalleled frauds 
which sprung like mines on every hand, set every man to 
trembling lest the next explosion should be under his own 
feet. Fidelity seemed to have forsaken men. Many that had 
earned a reputation for sterling honesty were cast so suddenly 
headlong into wickedness, that man shrank from man. Sus- 
picion overgrew confidence and the heart bristled with the 
nettles and thorns of fear and jealousy. 

There are at all times many ways by which young men are- 
tempted to be dishonest, and thus ruin their enjoyment for 
life. Some find in their bosom from the first a vehement in- 
clination to dishonest ways. Knavish propensities are inner- 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 491 

ent: born with the child and transmissible from parent to son. 
Others are taught the same by being early encouraged to be 
sharp in bargains, and vigilant for every advantage. Little is 
said about honesty and much about shrewd traffic. A dex- 
terous trick becomes a family anecdote; visitors are regaled 
with the boy's precocious keenness. Hearing the praise of his 
exploits he studies craft and seeks parental admiration by 
adroit knaveries. lie is taught for his safety that he must not 
range beyond the law: that would be unprofitable. He calcu- 
lates his morality thus: Legal honesty is the best policy — 
dishonesty, then, is a bad bargain and everything is wrong 
which is unthrifty. Whatever profit breaks no legal statute 
— though it is gained by falsehood, by unfairness, by gloss, or 
through dishonor, unkindness, and an unscrupulous conscience, 
he considers fair, and says: The law allows it. Men may 
spend a long life without an indictable action and without 
an honest one. No law can reach the insidious ways of sub- 
tle craft. 

Again, many a young man cheats his business by transfer- 
ring his means to theatres, race-courses, expensive parties, and 
to the nameless and numberless projects of pleasure. The en- 
terprise of others is baffled by the extravagance of their family;, 
for few men can make as much in a year as an extravagant 
woman can carry on her back in one winter. Some are am- 
bitious of fashionable society and will gratify their vanity at 
any expense. This disproportion between means and expense 
soon brings on a crisis. The victim is straitened for money;, 
without it he must abandon his rank; for fashionable society 
remorselessly rejects all butterflies which have lost their bril- 
liant colors. Which shall he choose, honesty and mortifying 
exclusion, or gaiety purchased by dishonesty? The severity 
of this choice sometimes sobers the intoxicated brain; and a 
young man shrinks from the gulf, appalled at the darkness of 
dishonesty. But to excessive vanity, high-life with or with- 
out fraud, is paradise, and any other life purgatory. And then 
a resort to dishonesty is had without a scruple. It is at this 
point that public sentiment half sustains dishonesty by scourg- 
ing the thief of necessity, and pitying the thief of fashion. 



492 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

Running in debt is another prolific source of dishonesty 
and misery. A debtor is tempted to elude responsibility; to 
delay settlements; to prevaricate upon the terms; to resist 
equity and devise specious fraud. He disputes true accounts; 
he studies subterfuges; extorts provocatious delays; and har- 
bors in every nook and corner and passage of the law's laby- 
rinth. At length the measure is filled up and the malignant 
power of debt is known. It has opened in the heart every 
fountain of iniquity; it has besoiled the conscience; it has 
tarnished the honor; it has made the man a deliberate student 
of knavery; a systematic practitioner of fraud; it has dragged 
him through all the sewers of petty passions — anger, hate, 
xevenge, malicious folly, or malignant shame. When a debtor 
is beaten at every point and the law will put her screws upon 
him, there is no depth in the gulf of dishonesty into which 
he will not boldly plunge. Some men put their property to 
the flames, assassinate the detested creditor, and end the 
frantic tragedy by suicide or the gallows. Others in view of 
the catastrophe convert all property to cash, and conceal it. 

A corrupt public sentiment in which dishonesty is not dis- 
graceful; in which bad men are respectable, are trusted, are 
exalted — is a curse to the young and an enemy of peace. 
The reigning fever of speculation, the universal derangement 
of business, and the oTowin^ laxness of morals, is, to an 

O O 7 3 

alarming extent, introducing such a state of things. Also the 
direct handling of money has a terrible influence on the heart. 
In many cases, here first begins to work the leaven of death. 
The mind wanders in dreams of gain; it broods over projects 
of unlawful riches; stealthily at first, and then with less re- 
serve; at last it boldly meditates the possibility of being dis- 
honest and safe. When a man can seriously reflect upon 
dishonesty as a possible and profitable thing, he is already 
deeply dishonest. To a mind so tainted, will flock stories of 
consummate craft, of effective knavery, of fraud covered by 
its brilliant success. 

At times, the mind shrinks from its own thoughts and 
trembles to look down the giddy cliff on whose edge they 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 493 

poise, or over which they fling themselves like sporting sea- 
birds. But these imaginations will not be driven from the 
heart where they have once nested, The}^ haunt a man's bus- 
iness, visit him in dreams, and vampire-like, fan the slumbers 
of the victim whom they will destroy. In some feverish 
hour, vibrating between conscience and avarice, the man stag- 
gers to a compromise. To satisfy his conscience he refuses to 
steal; and to gratify his avarice, he borrows the funds; — not 
openly — not of owners — not of men; but of the till — the safe 
— the vault! He resolves to restore the money before discov- 
ery can ensue, and pocket the profits. Meanwhile, false 
entries are made, perjured oaths are sworn, forged papers are 
filed. His expenses grow profuse, and men wonder from 
what fountain so copious a stream can flow. 

Let us stop here to survey his condition. He apparently 
flourishes, is called prosperous, thinks himself safe. Is he 
happy'i He has stolen, and embarked the amount upon a sea 
over which wander perpetual storms ; where wreck is the com- 
mon fate, and escape the accident; and now all his chance for 
the semblance of honesty is staked upon the return of his 
embezzlements from among the sands, the rocks and currents, 
the winds and waves and darkness of tumultuous speculation. 
At length dawns the day of discovery. His guilty dreams 
have long foretokened it. As he confronts the disgrace almost 
face to face, how changed is the hideous aspect of his deed 
from that fair face of promise with which it tempted himl 
Overawed by the prospect of open shame and his family's dis- 
grace, he shrinks out of life as a suicide, or decamps between 
two days, or turns about with cool impudence and defies offi- 
cers and employers to do their worst. 

Scheming speculation demoralizes honesty and almost ne- 
cessitates dishonesty. He who puts his own interests to rash 
ventures will scarcely do better for others. The speculator 
regards the weightiest affair as only a splendid game. Indeed, 
a speculator on the exchange and a gambler at his table follow 
one vocation, only with different instruments. One employs 
cards or dice, the other property. The one can no more fore- 



494: THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

see the result of his schemes than the other what spots will 
come up on his dice; the calculations of both are only the 
chances of luck. Both burn with unhealthy excitement; both 
are avaricious of gains, but careless of what they win ; both 
depend more upon fortune than skill; they have a common 
distaste for labor; with each, right and wrong are only the 
accidents of a game; neither would scruple in any hour to set 
his whole being on the edge of ruin, and going over, pull 
down if possible a hundred others with him. 

JSTow, while the power of money is confessedly great, and 
while it can procure many things for its possessor which make 
life pleasant, yet money, dishonestly obtained, can never give 
happiness. If wealth is gotten by fraud or avarice, it blights 
the heart as autumnal fires ravage the prairies! The eye 
glows with greedy cunning, conscience shrivels, the light of 
love goes out, and the wretch moves amidst his coin no better, 
no happier than a loathsome reptile in a mine of gold. A 
dreary fire of self-love burns in the bosom of the avaricious 
rich, as a hermit's flame in a ruined temple of the desert. 
The fire is kindled for no deity, and is odorous with no in- 
cense, but only warms the shivering anchorite. 

As has been said before, happiness resides primarily within 
a man ; it is an out-growth of a pure heart. There is no more 
happiness in a foul heart, than there is health in a pestilent 
morass. Satisfaction is not made out of such stufT as fighting 
carousals, obscene revelry, and midnight orgies. An alligator, 
gorging or swollen with surfeit and basking in the sun, has 
the same happiness which riches bring to the man who eats to 
gluttony, drinks to drunkenness, and sleeps to stupidity. 
When God sends wealth to bless men he sends it gradually 
like a gentle rain. When God sends riches to punish men, 
they come tumultuously, like a roaring torrent, tearing up 
landmarks and sweeping all before them in promiscuous ruin. 
Almost every evil which environs the path to wealth, springs 
from that criminal haste which substitutes adroitness for in- 
dustry, and trick for toil. 

Greed of money is like fire; the more fuel it has, the hotter 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 495 

it burns. Everything conspires to intensify the heat. Loss 
excites by desperation, and gain by exhilaration. The sight 
of houses better than our own, of dress beyond our means, of 
jewels costlier than we may wear, of stately equipage, and 
rare curiosities beyond our reach, these hatch the viper brood 
of covetous thoughts; vexing the poor who would be rich; 
tormenting the rich who would be richer. The covetous man 
pines to see pleasure; is sad in the presence of cheerfulness; 
and the joy of the world is his sorrow, because all the happi- 
ness of others is not his. To the covetous man life is a night- 
mare, and God lets him wrestle with it as best he may. Mam- 
mon might build its palace on such a heart, and pleasure 
bring all its revelry there, and honor all its garlands — it would 
be like pleasures in a sepulchre, and garlands on a tomb. 

Thorough selfishness destro} T s or paralyzes enjoyment. A 
heart made selfish by the contest for wealth is like a citadel 
stormed in war. The banner of victory waves over dilapidated 
walls, desolate chambers, and magazines riddled with artillery. 
The infernal canker of selfishness will eat out of the heart 
with the fire of hell, or bake it harder than a stone. The heart 
of avaricious old age stands like a bare rock in a black wilder- 
ness, and there is no rod of authority, nor incantation of 
pleasure, which can draw from it one crystal drop to quench 
the racing thirst of satisfaction. 

But if industry and honesty are so essential to happiness, 
what shall be said of the power of virtue? The influence of 
pretty, artful, seductive women over young men, is something 
fearful to contemplate. As moths and tiny insects nutter 
around the bright blaze which was kindled for no harm, so 
the foolish young fall down burned and destroyed by the blaze 
of beauty. As the name which burns to destroy the insect is 
consuming itself and soon sinks into the socket, so beauty, too 
often, draws on itself that ruin which it inflicts upon others. 
The tongue of the strange woman is like a bended bow which 
sends the silvery shaft of nattering words. Her eyes shall 
cheat thee, her dress shall beguile thee, her beauty is a trap, 
her sighs are baits, her words are lures, her love is poisonous, 
her flattery is the spider's web spread for thee. 



496 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

A young man might trust the sea with a tiny boat, trust the- 
fickle wind, trust the changing skies of April, trust the miser's 
generosity, the tyrant's mercy: but he must not trust himself" 
near the artful woman armed in her beauty, her cunning 
raiment, her dimpled smiles, her sighs of sorrow, her look of 
love, her voice of flattery. There is no vice like licentious- 
ness to delude with the most fascinating proffers of delight, 
and fulfil the promise with the most loathsome experience. 
All vices at the beginning are silver-tongued, but none so 
impassioned as this. All vices in the end cheat their dupes, 
but none with such overwhelming disaster as this. 

The heart of youth is a wide prairie. Over it hang the 
clouds of heaven to water it, the sun throws its broad sheets of" 
light upon it to wake its life; out of its bosom spring, the 
long season through, flowers of a hundred names and hues, 
twining together their lovely forms, wafting to each other a. 
grateful odor, and nodding each to each, in the summer-breeze. 
Such would man be, did he hold that purity of heart which 
God gave him ! But a depraved heart is a vast continent; on 
it are mountain-ranges of powers, and dark, deep streams, and 
pools, and morasses. If once the full and terrible clouds of 
temptation do settle down thick and fixedly upon, then the 
heart shall feel tides and streams of irresistible power mocking 
its control, and hurrying fiercely down from steep to steep, 
with groaning desolation. One's only resource is to avoid the 
uprising of giant-passions. 

There is hardly any being in the world more vile and loath- 
some than the libertine. His errand into this world is to ex- 
plore every depth of sensuality and collect upon himself the 
foulness of every one. He is proud to be vile; his ambition is 
to be viler than other men. His coarse feelings stimulated by 
gross excitements are insensible to delicacy. The exquisite 
bloom, the dew and freshness of the flowers of the heart which 
delight good men, he gazes upon as a Behemoth would gaze 
enraptured upon a prairie of flowers. It is so much pasture. 
The forms, the odors, the hues are only a mouthful for his 
terrible appetite. Therefore, his breath blights every inno- 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 497 

cent tiling. He sneers at the mention of purity, and leers in 
the very face of virtue, as though she were herself corrupt, if 
the truth were known. He assures the credulous disciple that 
there is no purity; that its appearances are only the veils 
which cover indulgence. Nay, he solicits praise for the very 
openness of his evil; and tells the listener that all act as he 
acts, but only few are courageous enough to own it. 

A young man knows little of life; less of himself. He feels 
in his bosom the various impulses, wild desires, restless crav- 
ings he can hardly tell of what, a sombre melancholy when all 
is gay, a violent exhilaration when others are sober. These 
wild gushes of feeling peculiar to youth, the sagacious tempter 
has felt, has studied, has practiced upon, until he can sit be- 
fore that most capacious organ, the human mind, knowing 
every stop and all the combinations, and competent to touch 
any note through the diapason. He begins afar off. lie de- 
cries the virtue of all men; studies to produce a doubt that 
any are under self-restraint. He unpacks his filthy stories, 
plays off the fire-works of his corrupt imagination — its blue- 
lights, its red-lights, and green-lights, and sparkle-spitting 
lights; and edging in upon the yielding youth who begins to 
wonder at his experience, he boasts his first exploits and hisses 
at the purity of women; he grows yet bolder, tells more wicked 
deeds, and invents worse even than he ever performed, though 
he has performed worse than good men ever thought of. 

Again, there is a polished libertine, in manners studiously 
refined, in taste faultless; his face is mild and engaging; his 
words drop as pure as newly-made honey. In general society 
he would rather attract regard as a model of purity, and sus- 
picion herself could hardly look askance upon him. Under 
this brilliant exterior, his heart is like a sepulchre, full of all 
uncleanness. Contrasted with the gross libertine, it would 
not be supposed that he had a thought in common with him. 
Professing unbounded admiration of virtue in general, he 
leaves not in private a point un transgressed. His reading has 
culled every glowing picture of amorous poets, every tempting 
scene of loose dramatists, and looser novelists. Enriched by 
32 



498 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

these, his imagination, like a rank soil, is overgrown with a 
prodigious luxuriance of poisonous herbs and deadly flowers. 
Of these two libertines, the most refined is the most danger- 
ous. The one is a rattlesnake which carries its warning with 
it, the other, hiding his burnished scales in the grass, skulks 
to perform unsuspected deeds in darkness. The one is the vis- 
ible fog and. miasm of the morass, the other is the serene air 
of a tropical city which, though brilliant, is loaded with in- 
visible pestilence. 

There are many evils which hold their victims by the force 
of habit; there are others which fasten them by breaking their 
return to society. Many a person never reforms, because re- 
form would bring no relief. There are other evils which hold 
men to them, because they are like the beginning of a fire; 
they tend to burn with fiercer and wider flames, until all fuel 
is consumed, and go out only when there is nothing to burn. 
Of this last kind is the sin of licentiousness: and when the 
conflagration once breaks out, experience has shown that thS 
chances of reformation are few indeed. 

But while we say these things against the indulgence of 
illicit love, we yet recognize the fact that God has said, "Mar- 
riage is honorable in all." It is not to be expected that young 
men are to grow up, mingle in society, and remain entirely 
insensible to female charms. This would be wholly unnatural 
as well as impossible, and so the best thing every young man 
can do, after arriving at mature age, is to select a suitable 
woman and marry her. But remember again that on the 
proper performance of this duty rests a great deal of happiness 
or wretchedness. It is no easy thing to pick out a good wife, 
consequently, we feel disposed to offer you a few suggestions 
upon this point. 

Some young men act very foolishly in choosing a compan- 
ion for life; they marry dimples; some ears, some noses; the 
contest, however, generally lies between the eyes and the hair. 
The mouth, too, is occasionally married; the chin not so often. 
Poor partners, these, you will own. But young men do marry 
all of these, and many other bits of scraps of a wife, instead 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 499 

of the true thing-. Such as the marriage is, such is the after- 
life. He that would have a wife must marry a true woman. 
If he can meet with one of equal social position, like education, 
similar disposition, kindred sympathies, and habits congenial 
■to his own, let him marry. But let him beware of marrying 
a curl, or a neck, however swan-like, or a voice, however me- 
lodious. The idea of a man in his senses, saying "I take 
this straight nose, regular teeth, ringlets, pretty foot, musical 
skill, money, to be my lawful wedded wife." Good qualities 
are far beyond all these put together. A woman may be very 
plain in her personal appearance, but if she have good domes- 
tic qualities she will prove a better treasure than the brainless, 
heartless beauty. 

It will be well in most cases for a young man to pay some 
.attention to the family into which he marries. The saying 
that a man only marries his wife and not her relations, is only 
true to a very limited extent. He becomes one of the family 
the moment he joins hands with a daughter of it at the altar, 
and he takes a share in its fortunes and its character. And 
while there are many w T orthy girls in lowly and poor families, 
yet if the family be noted for some characteristics and quali- 
ties which will be like a perpetual thorn in your side, you had 
better not ally yourself with it. For by a wise search you can 
find other girls equally good without any bad family incum- 
brance upon them. 

Don't marry a girl whose whole aim in life is simply to 
dress. The world is full of such. They think of nothing 
else; they dream of it, live for it, nutter round a dry-goods 
store like butterflies round a gaudy flower, ever on the look- 
out for the latest style. It is a great stain upon any woman's 
character when she is disposed to dress extravagantly. Many 
young women spend all they can get in finery, who the mo- 
ment they open their mouths to speak, display a poverty of 
mind that is positively appalling. Cowper describes this 
class as 

Insolent and self-caressed, 
By vanity's unwearied finger dressed, 
Forget the blush that virgin fears impart 



500 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

To modest cheeks, and borrow one from art; 
Curled, scented, furbelowed, and flounced around, 
With feet too delicate to touch the ground, 
They stretch the neck, and roll the wanton eye, 
And sigh for every fool that passes by. 

See that you get a good housekeeper, with all the rest. If 
there is an unlovely sight in the world, it is a listless, dirty, 
slatternly woman. She would spoil the best furniture and the 
best house in a short time. If we enter a well-ordered house, 
the spirit of it prevails over everything, and we feel at once its 
genial influence. While on the contrary, a disorderly house 
spreads its evil spirit over all around; and this as a rule is all 
owing to the want of a little method. As one drop of dirty 
water will pollute a glassfull, so one untidy habit will upset 
the happiness of a whole house. Where there is turmoil 
there is always discomfort; and such untidy people are always 
in a kind of low fever. Industrious habits have a very close 
connection with peace of mind, cheerfulness of spirit, good 
temper, and bodily health. 

On the other hand, there is such a thing as being too nice 
and particular. Such a wife is well described in the follow- 
ing lines: 

It is just as you say, neighbor Green: 

A treasure indeed is my wife; 
Such another for bustle and work 

I never have found in my life. 
But then she keeps every one else 

As busy as birds on the wing; 
There is never a moment for rest, 

She is such a fidgety thing! 

She makes the best bread in the town, 

Her pies are a perfect delight, 
Her coffee a rich golden brown, 

Her custards and puddings just right. 
But then, while I eat them she tells 

Of the care and the worry they bring, 
Of the martyr-like toil she endures— 

Oh, she's such a fidgety thing ! 

My house is as neat as a pin ; 

You should see how the door-handles shine, 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 501 

And all of the soft-cushioned chairs, 

And nicely swept carpets are mine. 
But then she so frets at tiiu dust, 

At a fly, at a straw, at a string, 
That I stay out of doors all I can, 

She is such a fidgety thing ! 

She knits all my stockings herself, 

My shirts are bleached white as the snow; 
- My old clothes look better than new, 

Yet daily more threadbare they grow ; 
But then if a morsel of lint 

Or dust on my trousers should cling, 
I'm sure of one sermon at least, 

She is such a fidgety thing! 

You have heard of a spirit so meek, 

So meek that it never opposes, 
Its own it dares never to speak — 

Alas ! I am meeker than Moses. 
But then I am not reconciled 

The subordinate always to sing; 
I submit, to get rid of a row; 

She is such a fidgety thing ! 

Strive to get a cheerful, affectionate wife. A good word 
*maketh the heart light. Kind words have a magical power 
in allaying irritations, lightening burdens, sweetening toil, 
conciliating affection, and diffusing around a serene and 
bracing air. They are the oil to the machinery of life. Eliza 
<Oook hath truly written: 

A look of kind truth and a word of good-will, 

Are the magical helps on life's road : 
With a mountain to travel they shorten the hill, 

With a burden they lighten the load. 

Wind and thunder have rolled, yet the wheat-ears of gold, 

And the red grapes shine glowing together ; 
So should spirits unite in the heart's harvest light, 
And forget all the past of rough weather. 

They should balance the glad with the sombre and sad; 

Let the voice of good fellowship call; 
For while love sings aloud, like a lark in the cloud, 

There is beauty and joy for us all. 



502 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



CHAPTER XYIL 

A Sunny Disposition. 

Cheerful looks make every dish a feast. 

Massinger. 

What then remains but well our power to use, 
And keep good humor still, whate'er we lose ? 
And trust me, dear, good humor will prevail 
When airs and flights and screams and scolding fail. 

Pope. 

A sweet, heart-lifting cheerfulness 
Is like spring-time of the year. * * * 
The charm that in the spirit lives 
No changes can destroy. 

Mrs. Hale. 

"There is a jewel which no Indian mine can buy, 
No chemic art can counterfeit; 
It makes men rich in greatest poverty, 
Makes water wine, turns wooden cups to gold, 
The homely whistle to sweet music's strain; 
Seldom it comes— to few from heaven sent — 
Is much in little, all in all — Content." 



S true happiness has its seat and source within, the- 
internal make-up of one's character has much to do 
with its production. At the very bottom of this 
structure, lies the foundation-stone of a cheerful, sunny dispo- 
sition. It is next to impossible to reason ourselves into con- 
tentment or happiness, unless we possess, to begin with, those 
traits and qualities of mind and heart the exercise of which 
makes happiness possible. You cannot make vinegar sweet 
by talking to it, no more can you make a sour, sullen dispo- 
sition happy through argument, persuasion, or any external 




HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 503 

appliances. Some people would be unhappy in paradise, oth- 
ers would create joy in the midst of a desert. 

Every one knows what it is to get on the south side of a 
building when the Autumn wind is blowing cold and raw from 
the North. The blessed sunshine seems to soak all through 
one, penetrating every crevice of nature and lighting up every 
dark spot of the inner and outward being. Such is the in- 
fluence of a sunny disposition in a household, or in the com- 
mon social walks of life. Everybody likes to get under the 
influence of such a person, and likes to dwell in that influence 
as in an atmosphere of warmth and blessedness. 

We therefore join with another in saying, God bless the 
cheerful person — man, woman or child, old or young, illiterate 
or educated, handsome or homely. The peer of every social 
trait is cheerfulness. "What the sun is to nature, what the 
stars are to night, what God is to the stricken heart which 
knows how to lean upon Him, are cheerful persons in the 
house and by the wayside. Man recognizes the magic of a 
cheerful influence in woman more quickly and more willingly 
than the potency of dazzling genius, of commanding worth, or 
even of enslaving beauty. 

If we are cheerful and contented, all nature smiles with us; 
the air seems more balmy, the sky more clear, the ground, has 
a brighter green, the trees have a richer foliage, the flowers a 
more fragrant smell, the birds sing more sweetly, and the sun, 
moon and stars all appear more beautiful. 

There are a few noble natures whose very presence carries 
sunshine with them wherever they go; a sunshine which 
means pity for the poor, sympathy for the suffering, help for 
the unfortunate, and benignity towards all. How such a face 
enlivens every other face it meets, and carries iuto every com- 
pany vivacity and joy and gladness! But the scowl and frown, 
begotten in a selfish heart, and manifesting itself in daily, al- 
most hourly fretfulness, complaining, fault-finding, angry 
criticisms, spiteful comments on the motives and actions of 
others, how they thin the cheek, shrivel the face, sour and 
sadden the countenance! No joy in the heart, no nobility in 



504 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

the soul, no generosity in the nature, the whole character as 
cold as ? 'au iceberg, as hard as an Alpine rock, and as arid as 
the wastes of Sahara ! 

Be cheerful, for it is the only happy life. The times may 
be hard, but it will make them no easier to wear a gloomy and 
sad countenance. It is the sunshine and not the cloud that 
makes the flower. There is always that before or around us 
which should fill the heart with warmth. The sky is blue ten 
times where it is black once. You have troubles it may be, 
but so have others. None are free from them, and perhaps it 
is well that none should be. That would be a dull sea, and the 
sailor would never get skill, where there was nothing to dis- 
turb the surface of the ocean. It is the duty of every one to 
extract all the happiness and enjoyment he can without and 
within him, and, above all, he should look on the bright side 
of things. What though tilings do look a little dark? The 
lane will turn, and the night will end in broad day. In the 
long run, the great balance rights itself. Men are not made 
to hang down either head or lips; and those who do, only show 
that they are departing from the paths of true common sense 
and right. There is more virtue in one sunbeam than in a whole 
hemisphere of cloud and gloom. Therefore, we repeat, look 
on the bright side of things. Cultivate what is warm and 
genial — not the cold and repulsive, the dark and morose. 

The cheerful are generally the busy, for frogs do not croak 
in running water. So active, healthy minds are seldom troubled 
with gloomy forebodings. These come up only from the stag- 
nant depths of a spirit unstirred by generous impulses or the 
blessed necessities of honest toil. The industrious bee stops 
not to complain that there are so many poisonous flowers and 
thorny branches in his road, but buzzes right on, selecting the 
honey where he can find it and passing quietly by the places 
where it is not. So should all workers do in the world's great 
hive. 

Although cheerfulness and a sunny disposition are valuable 
in all, yet these become most angelic and powerful in women. 
We somehow expect the fairer sex to be better-natured and 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 505 

more cheerful and lovely than men. Such a woman diffuses 
the oil of gladness through a whole household. It is easy 
•enough for a housewife to make arrangements for an occasional 
feast; hut amid the weariness and cares of life; the troubles, 
real and imaginary, of a family; the many thoughts and toils 
which are requisite to make the family a home of thrift, order 
and comfort; the varieties of temper and cross-lines of taste 
and inclination which are to be found in a large household — 
to maintain a heart full of good nature and a face always 
bright with cheerfulness, this is a perpetual festivity. 

We do not mean a mere superficial simper, which has no 
more character in it than the flow of a brook, but that ex- 
haustless patience, and self-control, and kindness, and tact 
which spring from good sense and brave purposes. Neither 
is it the mere reflection of prosperity, for cheerfulness, then, 
Is no virtue. Its best exhibition is in the dark back-ground 
of real adversity. Affairs assume a gloomy aspect, poverty is 
hovering about the door, sickness has already entered, days of 
hardship and nights of watching go slowly by, and then you 
see the triumph of which we speak. When the strong man 
has bowed himself and his brow is knit and creased, you will 
see how the whole life of the household seems to hang on the 
frailer form, which, w T ith solicitudes of her own, passing it 
may be under " the sacred primal sorrow of her sex," has an 
eye and an ear for every one but herself, suggestive of expe- 
dients, hopeful in extremities, helpful in kind words and affec- 
tionate smiles, morning, noon and night, the medicine, the 
light, the heart of a whole household. God bless that bright, 
sunny face! says many a reader as he recalls one of mother 
wife, sister, daughter which has been to him all that these 
words have described. 

A quaint old writer hath said: "Every man either is rich, 
or may be so; though not all in one and the same wealth. 
Some have abundance, and rejoice in it; some a competency, 
and are content; some having nothing, have a mind desiring 
nothing. He that hath most, wants something; he that bath 
least, is in something supplied; wherein the mind which 



506 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

make tli rich, may well possess him with the thought of store. 
Who whistles out more content than the low-fortuned plow- 
man, or sings more merrily than the abject cobbler that sits 
under the stall? Content dwells with those that are out of 
the eye of the world, whom she hath never trained with her 
gauds, her toils, her lures. Wealth is like learning, wherein 
our greater knowledge is only a larger sight of our wants- 
Desires fulfilled, teach us to desire more; so we that at first 
were pleased, by removing from that, are now grown insa- 
tiable." 

Let any person go along the street and see how few people 
there are whose faces look as though any joy had come down 
and sung in their souls. We can see lines of thought, and of 
care, and of fear — money lines, shrewd, grasping lines — but 
how few happy lines! The rarest feeling that ever lights the 
human face is the contentment of a loving soul. There are a 
hundred successful men where there is one contented man. 
We can find a score of handsome faces where we can find one- 
happy face. An eccentric wealthy gentleman stuck up a board 
in a field upon his estate, upon which was painted the follow- 
ing: " I will give this field to any contented man." He soon 
had an applicant. "Well, sir; are you a contented man?' 7 
"Yes, sir; very." "Then what do you want of my field?" 
The applicant did not stop to reply. 

Happiness often consists not so much in adding more fuel y 
as in taking away some fire; not in multiplying wealth, as in 
subtracting men's desires. Wishes are as prolific as rabbits- 
One imaginary want, like a stool pigeon, brings flocks of oth- 
ers, and the mind becomes so overwhelmed, that it loses sight 
of all the real comforts in possession. 

When Alexander saw Diogenes sitting in the warm sun,, 
and asked what he should do for him? he desired no more 
than that Alexander would stand out of his sunshine, and not 
take from him what he could not give. A quiet and contented 
mind is the supreme good; it is the utmost felicity a man is 
capable of in this world; and the maintaining of such an un- 
interrupted tranquillity of spirit is the very crown and glory 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 507 

of wisdom and joy. Many people who are surrounded by all 
the substantial comforts of life, become discontented because 
some wealthier neighbor sports a carriage, and his lady a 
Brussels carpet and mahogany chairs, entertains parties, and 
makes more show in the world than they. Like the monkey, 
they attempt to imitate all they see that is deemed fashion- 
able; make a dash at greater contentment; dash out their com- 
fortable store of wealth; and sometimes, determined on quiet 
at last, close the farce with a tragedy. 

A cheerful and sunny disposition is equally inspiring, rich r 
and beneficent. It encourages all things good, great, noble. 
It whispers liberty to the slave, freedom to the captive, health 
to the sick, home to the wandering, friends to the forsaken, 
peace to the troubled, supplies to the needy, bread to the hun- 
gry, strength to the weak, rest to the weary, life to the dying. 
It has sunshine in its eye, encouragement on its tongue, and 
inspiration in its hand. Rich and glorious is it and faithfully 
should it be cultivated. Let its inspiring influence be in the 
heart of every youth. It will give strength and courage. 
Let its cheerful words fall ever from his tongue, and its bright 
smile play ever on his countenance. Entertain well this 
nymph of goodness. Cultivate well this ever-shining flower 
of the spirit. It is the evergreen of life, that grows at the 
eastern gate of the soul's garden. 

A kind word and a pleasant voice, growing out of a cheer- 
ful and sunny heart, are gifts easy to give, but they are worth 
more than money. Kindness makes sunshine wherever it 
goes; it finds its way into hidden chambers of the heart and 
brings golden treasures; harshness, on the contrary, seals them 
up forever. Kindness makes the mother's lullaby sweeter 
than the song of the lark, the care-laden brow of the father 
and man of business less severe in their expression. Kind- 
ness is the real law of life, the link that connects earth with 
heaven, the true philosopher's stone, for all it touches it turns 
to virgin gold; the true gold wherewith we purchase content- 
ment, peace and love. Write your name with kindness, love 
and mercy, on the hearts of the people you come in contact 
with year by year, and you will never be forgotten. 



508 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

IIow sweet are the affections of kindness. How balmy the 
influence of that regard which dwells around the fireside, 
where virtue lives for its own sake, and fidelity regulates and 
restrains the thirst for admiration, often a more potent foe to 
virtue than the fiercest lust; where distrust and doubt dim 
not the lustre of purity, and where solicitude, except for the 
preservation of an unshaken confidence, has no place, and the 
gleam of suspicion or jealousy never disturb the harmony and 
tranquillity of the scene; where paternal kindness and de- 
voted filial affection blossom in all the freshness of eternal 
spring! 

In all social life it is by the little acts of watchful regard, 
by words and tones and gestures and looks, that true affection 
is won and preserved. He who neglects these trifles, yet 
boasts that, whenever a great sacrifice is ca)led for, he will be 
ready to make it, will rarely be loved. The likelihood is he 
will not make it; and if he does, it will be much rather for his 
own sake than for his neighbors. Give no pain. Breathe not 
a sentiment, say not a word, give not the expression of the 
countenance that will offend another, or send a thrill of pain 
to his bosom. We are surrounded by sensitive hearts which 
a word or look even, might fill to the brim with sorrow. If 
you are careless of the opinions of others, remember that they 
are differently constituted from yourself, and never, by word 
or sign, cast a shadow on a happy heart, or throw aside the 
smiles of joy that linger on a pleasant countenance. 

Many lose the opportunity of saying a kind thing by wait- 
ing to weigh the matter too long. Our best impulses are too 
delicate to endure much handling. If you fail to give them 
expression the moment they rise, they effervesce, evaporate, 
and are gone. If they do not turn sour, they become flat, 
losing life and sparkle by keeping. Speak promptly when 
you feel kindly. 

Deal gently with a stranger. Remember the severed cord 
of affection, still bleeding, and beware not to wound by a 
thoughtless act, or a careless word. The stranger, perchance, 
lias lived in an atmosphere of love as warm as that we breathe. 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 501> 

Alone and friendless now, he treasures the image of loved ones 
far away, and when gentle words and warm kisses are ex- 
changed, we know not how his heart thrills and the tear drops 
start. Speak gently. The impatient word our friends may 
utter does not wound, so mailed are we in the impenetrable 
armor of love; but keenly is an unkind remark felt by the lone 
and friendless one. 

Like a clinging vine torn from its support, the stranger's 
heart begins to twine its tendrils around the first object which 
is presented to it. Is love so cheap a thing in this world, or 
have we already so much that we can lightly cast off the in- 
stinctive affections thus proffered? To some souls an atmos- 
phere of love is as necessary as the vital air to the physical 
system. A person of such a nature may clothe one in imagi- 
nation with all the attributes of goodness and make his heart's 
sacrifices at the shrine. Let us not cruelly destroy the illusion 
by unkindness. 

Let the name of stranger be ever sacred, whether it is that, 
of an honored guest at our fireside, or the poor servant girl 
in our kitchen; the gray-haired or the young; and when we 
find ourselves far from friends and the dear associates of home, 
and so lonely, may some kind, some angel-hearted being, by 
sympathizing words and acts, cause our hearts to thrill with 
unspoken gratitude, and thus we will find again the " bread " 
long "cast upon the waters." 

Now in contrast with this sunny, kind, cheerful, contented 
disposition, place the life of the fault-finding, fretting, grumb- 
ling man or woman, and behold the difference! There are 
many very excellent persons, whose lives are honorable and 
whose characters are noble but who pass numberless and need- 
less hours of sadness. The fault is not with their circum- 
stances, nor yet with their general characters, but with 
themselves, that they are miserable. They have failed to adopt 
the true philosophy of life. They wait for happiness to come 
instead of going to work and making it; and while they wait 
.they torment themselves with borrowed troubles, with fears, 
forebodings, morbid fancies and moody spirits, till they are- 
all unfit for happiness under any circumstances. 



510 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

Sometimes they cherish unchaste ambition, covet some 
fancied or real good which they do not deserve and could not 
enjoy if it were theirs, wealth they have not earned, honors 
they have not won, attentions they have not merited, love 
which their selfishness only craves. Sometimes they under- 
value the good they do possess; throw away the pearls in hand 
for some beyond their reach, and often less valuable; trample 
the flowers about them under their feet; long for some never- 
seen, but only heard or read of; and forget present duties and 
joys in future and far-oif visions. 

Sometimes they shade the present with every cloud of the 
past, and although surrounded by a thousand inviting duties 
and pleasures, revel in sad memories with a kind of morbid 
relish for the stimulus of their miseries. Sometimes, forget- 
ting the past and present, {hey live in the future, not in its 
probable realities, but in its most improbable visions and un- 
real creations, now of good and then of evil, wholly' unfitting 
their minds for real life and enjoyments. 

These morbid and improper states of minds are too preva- 
lent among many persons. They excite that nervous irritabil- 
ity which is so productive of pining regrets and fretful com- 
plaints. They make that large class of fretters who enjoy no 
peace themselves, nor permit others to enjoy it. In the 
domestic circle they fret their life away. Everything goes 
wrong with them because they make it so. The smallest an- 
noyances chafe them as though they were unbearable aggrava- 
tions. Their business and duties trouble them as though such 
things were not good. Pleasure they never seem to know be 
cause they never get ready to enjoy it. 

Even the common movements of Providence are all wrong 
with them. The weather is never as it should be. The seasons 
roll on badly. The sun is never properly tempered. The cli- 
mate is always charged with a multitude of vices. The winds 
are everlastingly perverse, either too high or too low, blowing 
dust in everybody's face, or not fanning them as they should. 
The earth is ever out of humor, too dry or too wet, too muddy 
or dusty. And people are just about like it. Something is 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 511 

wrong all the time, and the wrong is always just about them. 
Their home is the worst of anybody's; their street and their 
neighborhood is the most unpleasant to be found; nobody else 
has so bad servants and so many annoyances as they. Their 
lot is harder than falls to common mortals; they have to 
work harder and always did; have less and always expect to. 
They have seen more trouble than other folks know anything 
about. They are never so well as their neighbors, and charge 
all the blame on those nearest connected to them. 

Such people are to be pitied. They may be good in some 
respects, but they are very annoying to themselves and all 
others. They see all things through the shadow of their own 
gloomy and fretful spirits. This defect in character is gen- 
erally the result of a complaining, fault-finding disposition. 
The man who frets is never the one who mends, heals, or re- 
pairs evils; more, he discourages, enfeebles, and too often dis- 
ables those around him, who, but for the gloom and depression 
of his company, would do good" work and keep up brave cheer. 
And- when the fretter is one who is beloved, whose nearness of 
relation to us makes his fretting seem almost a personal re- 
proach to us, then the misery of it becomes indeed insupport- 
able. Most men call fretting a minor fault, a foible, and not 
a vice. There is no vice except drunkenness which can so 
utterly destroy the peace, the happiness of a home. 

It is not work that usually kills people, but worry. Work 
is healthy; yon can hardly put more on a man than he can 
bear. Worry is rust upon the blade. It is not the revolution 
that destroys the machinery, but the friction. Fear secretes 
acids, but love and trust are sweet juices. The man or woman 
who goes through the world grumbling and fretting, is not 
only violating the laws of God, but is a sinner against the 
peace and harmony of society, and is, and of right ought to 
be, shunned accordingly. -They are always in hot water, and 
forever in trouble. They throw the blame of their own mis- 
deeds and want of judgment upon others, and if one might 
believe them, society would be found in a shocking state. 
They rail at everything, lofty or lowly, and when they have 



512 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

no grumbling to do, they begin to cast suspicion upon the? 
motives of every noble and praiseworthy enterprise. 

It would be well if these grumblers were left to form a se- 
lect circle among themselves. Let them herd together and 
give each other the cold shoulder as much as they please, and 
make themselves and all others around them as uncomfortable 
as they like. Thus perhaps they might discover the error of 
their ways and reform. 

Out from a soured and gloomy disposition come many of 
the worst traits of human nature. It kindles within the con- 
suming fires of envy, it emits the poisonous breath of slander. 
Envy is a madness of the spirit begotten by the sight of an- 
other's prosperity; it seeks to elevate self by needless and 
cruel degradation of others. It hates the sound of another's 
praise and deems no renown acceptable that cannot be shared 
by itself. Conscious of its own insignificance and impotence, 
when not active it folds its arms in despair and sits cursing in 
a corner. Slander, on the other hand, is like the blighting si- 
rocco of the Arabian desert which not only produces death, but 
causes the most rapid decomposition of its victim. So the 
base, cloven-footed calumniator delights in destroying the 
worth and immolating the innocence of high and low, prince 
and peasant, matron and maid. 

An unjust and unfavorable innuendo is started against a per- 
son of unblemished character; it gathers force as it is rolled 
through babble town — it soon assumes the dignity of a prob- 
lem — is solved by the rule of double position, and the result 
increased by geometrical progression and permutation of quan- 
tities; and before truth can get her shoes on, a stain, deep and 
damning, has been stamped on the fair fame of an innocent 
victim by an unknown hand. To trace calumny back to the 
small fountain of petty scandal, is often impossible; and al- 
ways more difficult than to find the source of the Nile. In- 
sects and reptiles there are which fulfill the ends of their 
existence by tormenting us; so some minds and dispositions 
accomplish their destiny by increasing our misery, and making 
us more discontented and unhappy. 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 513 

Shun evil-speakings Deal tenderly with the absent; say 
nothing to inflict a wound on their reputation. They may be 
wrong and wicked, yet your knowledge of it does not oblige 
you to disclose their character, except to save others from in- 
jury. Then do it in a way that bespeaks a spirit of kindness 
for the absent offender. Be not hasty to credit evil reports. 
They are often the result of misunderstanding, or of evil de- 
sign, or they proceed from an exaggerated or partial disclosure 
of facts. Wait and learn the whole story before you decide; 
then believe just what evidence compels you and no more. 

Having thus seen the difference between a sunny and a 
cloudy disposition, who could hesitate for a moment which 
one to choose as a companion? Ah! this power of looking 
on £he bright side of things is indeed a precious inward treas- 
ure and should be sought after and cultivated most diligently 
by all who would be happy. Says Jean Paul Kichter: "Be 
but for one day, instead of a fire-worshiper of evil passion 
the sun-worshiper of clear- souled joy, and then compare the 
day in which you rooted out this weed of dissatisfaction, with 
that in which you allowed it to grow, and you will find that 
by the restraining process your heart has been opened to every 
good motive, your life strengthened, and your soul armed with 
a panoply against every trick of fate." 

Not that one should deliberately blind his eyes to- the evils 
existing in the world, for that would be like imitating the 
foljy of the ostrich when pursued. One should never try to 
deceive himself respecting the true character of all things 
and persons around him ; but it is one thing to know of evil 
and quite another to fret and grumble about it when such feel- 
ings do no possible good. There is a world of true philoso- 
phy in the familiar lines, 

"For every evil under the sun, 
There is a remedy, or there is none ; 
If there be one, try and find it, 
If there be none, never mind it." 

No One person is responsible for the general government of 
this world, or for the general ordering of things within it; and 
33 



514 the Imperial highway. 

as the world got on well enough before we were born, and will 
doubtless do the same after we die, so we can safely leave its 
management to stronger and better hands while we live. Our 
greatest concern should be to act well our part, do good, be 
cheerful, kind and contented, and leave the rest to the control 
of the Supreme Ruler of all things. 

Kindness conquers in many a battle when every other re- 
source fails. A rough-looking man once brought his little 
boy into a school and gave him over into the care of the teacher 
with these comments: " I have brought my boy here to see 
if you can do anything with him. Of all stubborn boys I ever 
knew, he is the. worst." As the teacher was going to his desk 
one day, he put out his hand to lay it kindly on the boy's 
shoulder, whereupon the little fellow shuddered and shrank 
away from his touch. What is the matter, asked the teacher? 
I thought you were going to strike me, said "the boy. Why 
should I strike you? Because I am so bad, the boy answered. 
Who says you are bad ? Father, mother and everybody sa} T s 
so. The teacher spoke kindly to the lad and told him he 
could be as good as any boy, if he tried. A new idea flashed 
into that young mind, and a new hope sprang up in that little 
heart. Can I be a good boy? then I will be a good boy, the 
little fellow said to himself. From that time a marked change 
came over his whole life. He made rapid progress in his 
studies, secured the affection of his playmates, grew up to be 
a good man and became Governor of one of our largest states. 

Southey the poet tells the following story of himself: When 
I was small, there was a black boy in the neighborhood whom 
we loved to torment by calling him negro, blackamoor, and 
such like offensive epithets. The little fellow appeared ex- 
cessively grieved, but said nothing. Soon after I went to 
borrow his skates. He let me have them with a pleasant 
word of welcome. When I returned them, I told him I was 
under great obligations to him for his kindness. He looked 
up at me as he took his skates, and said mournfully, " Robert, 
don't ever call me blackamoor again," and then immediately 
left the room. The words pierced mv heart like an arrow; I 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 515 

burst into tears and resolved never to abuse a poor black again. 
Instances like these could be multiplied by the hundred, and 
they all go to show that it only needs — 

"Little words of kindness, 
Little deeds of love, 
To make our world an Eden 
Like to that above." 

Therefore always cherish like an apple of gold, a bright, sunny, 
cheerful temper and disposition. It will prove under all con- 
ditions of life a perennial fountain of happiness. 




516 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 
Beauty and Happiness. 

Beauty, the burning lamp of heaven's light,. 
Darting her beams into each open mind. 

Spenser.. 

Beauty was lent to nature as the type 
Of heaven's unspeakable and holy joy, 
Where all perfection makes the sum of bliss. 

Mrs. S. J. Hale. 

Give me a look, give me a face 
That makes simplicity a grace; 
Robes loosely flowing, hair, as free ! 
Such sweet neglect more taketh me 
Than all the adulteries of art 
"Which strike the eye, but not the heart. 

Ben Jonson- 

"What is beauty ? Not the show 

Of shapely limbs and features. JNo; 

These are but flowers 

That have their dated hours 

To breathe their momentary sweetness, then go.. 

' Tis the stainless soul within 

That outshines the fairest skin. 

A. Hunt. 

Some souls lose all things but the love of beauty,. 

But by that love they are redeemable. 

For in love of beauty they acknowledge good, 

And good is God. * * * * 

The beautiful are never desolate. 

Philip James Bailey. 

the complex nature of man there is a set of faculties 
which recognize the presence of beauty and respond 
joyfully to its exhilarating and eloquent appeals. This 

is sometimes called by way of distinction, the aesthetic nature. 

It is a tangible and actual possession, though somewhat diffi- 




HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 517 

cult to define. <: Why we receive pleasure from some forms 
and colors," says Ruskin, "is no more to be asked or ans- 
wered, than why we like sugar and dislike wormwood. The 
utmost reach of investigation would only conduct us back to 
an ultimate instinct and principle of human nature." We 
were so created, and that is the end of all questioning. 

The connection between beauty and happiness is a very 
close one. Indeed, the chief function of these aesthetic facul- 
ties of our being seems to be to give us different degrees of 
pleasure according to the culture and purity of the mind pos- 
sessing them. Brutes and brutish people have little or no 
appreciation of beauty. The dull, eye of the ox, grazing upon 
a mountain side, lifts its gaze to the sky, looks out upon a 
lovely landscape, or beholds the gorgeous beauty of a sunset 
without a single answering perception or feeling, so far as we 
know. And nearly the same is true of the besotted sensualist 
or bloated debauchee. To derive pure and unalloyed happi- 
ness from the contemplation of the beautiful in nature, art, 
or the "human form divine," one must be a person of taste. 
And perfect taste is the faculty of receiving pleasure from all 
objects which are attractive to our nature in its purity and 
perfection. To derive little or no joy from such objects, is to 
be devoid of taste. To receive pleasure from objects not in- 
trinsically beautiful, is to have false or bad taste. 

False taste may be known by its fastidiousness, by its de- 
mands of pomp, splendor, and unusual combination; by its 
-enjoyment only of particular styles and modes of things, and 
by its pride also, for its eye is always upon itself, and it tests 
all things around it by the way they fit it. But true taste is 
for ever growing, learning, reading, worshiping, laying its 
hand upon its mouth because it is astonished, casting its shoes 
from off its feet because it finds all ground holy, and testing 
itself by the way that it fits things. And it finds whereof to 
feed, and whereby to grow, in all things. There is that to be 
seen in every street and lane of every city — that to be felt and 
found in every human heart and countenance, that to be loved 
in every road-side weed and moss-grown wall, which may con- 



518 THE IMPERIAL' HIGHWAY. 

vey emotions of glory and sublimity, continual and exalted- 
Says a high authority: "This sense of beauty in the soul is- 
, not sensuaL on the one hand, nor exclusively intellectual on 
the other, but is dependent both for its rightness and intensity 
on a pure, right, and open state of the heart; for we see men 
constantly, having naturally acute perceptions of the beauti- 
ful yet not receiving these with a pure heart, never derive 
good therefrom, but make them an accompaniment and season- 
ing of lower sensual pleasures until all their emotions take the 
same earthly stamp, and the glorious sense of beauty sinks 
into the debased servant of lust." And on account of this 
possible perversion of an originally noble taste, Quarles hath 
written by way of admonition and warning: "Gaze not oh 
(human) beauty too much, lest it blast thee; nor too long, lest, 
it blind thee; nor too near, lest it burn thee. If thou like it,, 
it deceives thee; if thou hunt after it, it destroys thee. If 
virtue accompany it, it is the heart's paradise; if vice associ- 
ate it, it is the soul's purgatory." 

On the other hand, true and pure ideas of beauty are among 
the noblest which can be presented to the human mind, inva- 
riably exalting, and purifying it according to their kind and 
degree; and it appears that humanity was intended to be kept 
constantly under the influence of these, since there is hardly 
an object in the world which is not capable of conveying them, 
to the rightly perceiving mind. We shall confine our obser- 
vations, however, to two principal departments of this beauty- 
world, namely: natural and human beauty. 

In looking at the beautiful in nature and its possibility of 
creating joy within, we can accept no more intelligent guide 
than John Ruskin. This richly and rarely-endowed man might 
well be called nature's high-priest and prophet; for no pair of 
human eyes ever before saw so much of beauty in sky and 
cloud and tree and water as he has seen, no heart ever felt the 
power of beauty more intensely than he has felt it, and no 
pen ever described beauty-visions and emotions so vividly and 
grandly as his has done. So without further quotation we 
will yield ourselves up to the enchantment of his eloquence 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 519 

while we look out upon a few of the beautiful objects with 
which this majestic world is filled. Says Wordsworth: 

. Nature never did betray 
The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, 
Through all the years of this our life, to lead 
From joy to joy; for she can so inform 
The mind that is within us, so impress 
With quietness and beauty, and so feed 
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, 
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men 
Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb 
Our cheerful faith that all which we behold 
Is full of blessings. 

Now look up at the sky and clouds. It is strange how lit- 
tle people in general know about the sky. It is the part of 
creation in which nature has done more for the sake of pleas- 
ing man, more for the sole and evident purpose of talking to 
him and teaching him, than in any other of her works, and it 
is just that part in which we least attend to her. Every es- 
sential purpose of the sky might, so far as we know, be an- 
swered, if once in three days, or thereabouts, a great ugly black 
rain cloud were brought up over the blue, and everything well 
watered, and so all left blue again till next time, with perhaps 
a film of morning and evening mist for dew. But instead of 
this, there is not a moment of any day of our lives, when na- 
ture is not producing scene after scene, picture after picture, 
glory after glory, and working still upon such exquisite and 
constant principles of the most perfect beauty, that it is quite 
certain it is all intended for our perpetual pleasure, 

And every man, wherever placed, however far from other 
sources of beauty, has this doing for him constantly. The 
noblest scenes of earth can be seen and known but by few; it 
is not intended that man should live always in the midst of 
them; he injures them by his presence, he ceases to feel them 
if he be always with them; but the sky is for all; bright as it 
is, it is not " too bright, nor good, for human nature's daily 
food;" it is fitted in all its functions for the perjjetual comfort 
and exalting of the heart from its dross and dust. Sometimes 



£20 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

gentle, sometimes capricious, sometimes awful, never the same 
for two moments together; almost human in its passions, al- 
most spiritual in its tenderness, almost divine in its infinity, 
its appeal to what is immortal in us, is as distinct, as its min. 
istry of chastisement or of blessing. 

Yet, for the most part, whenever we make the sky a subject 
of thought we speak of it only as it effects our animal sensa- 
tions; as wet or windy, as warm or cold. Who among the 
crowd can tell of the forms and precipices in those chains of tall 
white mountains which so often gird the horizon ? Who 
watches the narrow sunbeam that comes from the south and 
smites upon their summits until they melt and ra older away 
in a dust of blue rain? Who knoweth also the mutual service 
of veiling cloud and burning ball of fire which, without the 
firmament, would be seen only as an intolerable and scorching 
circle in the blackness of vacuity ? By the firmament of clouds 
the golden pavement is spread for his chariot wheels at morn- 
ing; b} 7 the firmament of clouds the temple is built for his 
presence to fill with light at noon; by the firmament of clouds 
the purple veil is closed at evening round the sanctuary of his 
rest; by the mists of the firmament his implacable light is 
divided, and its separated fierceness appeased into the soft 
blue that fills the depth of distance with its bloom, and the 
flush with which the mountains burn as they drink the over- 
flowing of the dayspring. 

If you watch a brilliant sunset you will see, especially at the 
zenith, that the sky does not remain of the same color for two 
inches together; one cloud has a dark side of cold blue, and a 
fringe of milky white; another, above it, has a dark side of 
purple and an edge of red; another, nearer the sun, has an un- 
der-side of orange and an edge of gold; these you will find 
mingled with, and passing into the blue of the sky, which in 
places you will not be able to distinguish from the cool grey 
of the darker clouds, and which will be itself full of gradation, 
now pure and deep, now faint and feeble; and all this is done 
not in large pieces, nor on a large scale, but over and over 
again in every square yard. 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 521 

Stand upon the peak of some isolated mountain at day-break 
•when the night-mists first rise from off the plains, and watch 
their white and lake-like fields as they float in level bays and 
winding gulfs about the islanded summits of the lower hills, 
untouched yet by more than dawn, colder and more quiet than 
a windless sea under the moon of midnight. Watch when 
the first sunbeam is sent upon the silver channels how the foam 
of their undulating surface parts and passes away ; and down 
under their depths the glittering city and green pasture lie 
like Atlantis between the white paths of winding rivers; the 
flakes of light falling every moment faster and broader among 
the starry spires as the wreathed surges break and vanish 
above them, and the confused crests and ridges of the dark 
hills shorten their gray shadows upon the plain. 

Wait a little longer and you shall see those scattered mists 
rallying in the ravines and floating up towards you along the 
winding valleys, till they couch in quiet masses, iridescent with 
the morning light," upon the broad breasts of the higher hills 
whose leagues of massy undulation will melt back into that 
robe of material light until they fade away, lost in its lustre, 
to appear again above in the serene heaven like a wild, bright, 
impossible dream, foundationiess and inaccessible, their very 
bases vanishing in the unsubstantial and mocking blue of the 
deep lake below. 

Wait yet a little longer and you shall see those mists gather 
themselves into white towers and stand like fortresses along 
the promontories, massy and motionless, only piling with 
■every instant higher and higher into the sky and casting longer 
shadows athwart the rocks; and out of the pale blue of the 
horizon you will see forming and advancing a troop of narrow, 
dark, pointed vapors which will cover the sky inch by inch 
with their grey network, and take the light off the landscape 
with an eclipse which will stop the singing of the birds and 
the motion of the leaves together; and then you will see hori- 
zontal bars of black shadow forming under them and lurid 
wreaths create themselves, you know not how, along the shoul- 
ders of the hills. 



522 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

And then you will hear the sudden rush of the awakened 
wind and you will see those watch-towers of vapor swept away 
from their foundations and waving curtains of opaque rain let 
down to the valleys, swinging from the burdened clouds in 
black, bending fringes or pacing in pale columns along the 
lake level, grazing its surface into foam as they go. And then 
as the sun sinks you shall see the storm drift for an instant 
from off the hills, leaving their broad sides smoking and loaded 
yet with snow-white, torn, steam-like rags of capricious 
vapor, now gone, now gathered again; while the smoldering 
sun seeming not far away but burning like a red-hot ball be- 
side you, plunges through the rushing wind and roiling cloud 
with headlong fall, as if it meant to rise no more, dyeing all 
the air about it with blood. And then you shall hear the- 
fainting tempest die in the hollow of the night, and yon shall 
see a green halo kindling on the summit of the eastern hills,, 
brighter and brighter yet, till the large white circle of the slow 
moon is lifted up among the barred clouds step by step, line 
by line; quenching star after star with her kindling light and 
setting in their stead an army of pale, penetrable, fleecy wreaths 
in the heaven which move together hand in hand, company 
by company, troop by troop, so measured in their unity of 
motion that the whole heaven seems to roll with them, and the 

earth to reel under them. 

• And then wait yet for one hour until the east again becomes 
purple and the heaving mountains, rolling against it in the 
darkness like waves of a wild sea, are drowned one by one in 
the glory of its burning. Watch the white glaciers blaze in 
their winding paths about the mountains like mighty serpents 
with scales of fire; watch the columnar peaks of solitary snow 
kindling downwards, chasm by chasm, each in itself a new 
morning; their long avalanches cast down in keen streams 
brighter than the lightning and sending each its tribute of 
driven snow, like altar-smoke, up to heaven; the rose-light of 
their silent domes flushing that heaven around and above r 
piercing with purer light through its purple lines of lifted 
cloud, casting a new glory on every wreath as it passes by f 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 523 

until the whole heaven — one scarlet canopy— is interwoven 
with a roof of waving name, and tossing, vault above vault, 
as with the drifted wings of many companies of angels; — and 
by this time you can look no more for gladness and are bowed 
down with gratitude, wonder and love! 

Next contemplate the crystalline beauty of water, which is 
also the source of all the beauty we have seen above. This. 
is the instrument by which the earth has been modeled into 
symmetry, and its crags chiseled into grace. Few people have 
ever seen the effect on the sea of a continued gale, and those who 
have not, the most unimaginable feature of the scene is the 
complete annihilation of the line between sea and air. The 
water from its prolonged agitation is beaten, not into mere 
creaming foam but into masses of accumulated yeast which 
hang in ropes and wreaths from wave to wave, and where one 
curls over to break, forms a festoon like drapery on its edge. 
Ordinarily, sea-foam lasts only a moment after it is formed 
and then disappears in a mere white film. But the foam of a. 
prolonged tempest is thick, permanent, whipped foam, and 
gathers into discolored and clotted concretions before the 
driving wind. 

These are taken up by the wind, not in dissipating dust but 
in writhing, hanging, coiling masses which make the air white 
and thick as with snow, only the flakes are each a foot long; 
the surges themselves are full of foam in their bodies making 
them white all through as the water is under a great cataract; 
and their masses being thus half water and half air, are torn 
to pieces by the wind whenever they rise, and carried away 
in roaring smoke which chokes and strangles like actual water. 
Imagine also the low rain-clouds brought down to the very 
level of the sea, whirling and flying in rags and fragments- 
from wave to wave; and finally, conceive the surges themselves 
in their utmost pitch of power lifting themselves in columns 
and peaks, furrowed with their whirl of ascent, and then you 
can readily understand that there is no distinction left between 
sea and air; that there is neither horizon nor landmark visi- 
ble; that the heaven is all spray and the ocean is all cloudy 



52tt THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

and you can see no farther in any direction than through a 
cataract. 

Come again down on the beach of the great sea and watch 
all sorts of waves coming in when no storm is abroad. Count 
them at their irregular play — one — two ; here comes a well- 
formed wave at last, trembling a little at the top, but on the 
whole, orderly. So! Crash among the shingle, and up as far 
as this grey pebble! Now stand by and watch. Another: — 
Ah, careless wave! why couldn't yon have kept your crest on? 
It is all gone away into spray, striking up against the cliffs 
there — I thought as much — missed the mark by a couple <>f 
feet! Another: — How now, impatient one? couldn't you have 
waited till your iriend's reflux was done with, instead of' roll- 
ing yourself up with it in that unseemly manner? Yon go 
for nothing. A fourth, and a goodly one at last! What 
think we of yonder slow rise and crystalline hollow without a 
flaw? Steady, good wave! not so fast! not so fast! Where 
are you coming to? This is too bad; two yards over the mark 
and ever so much of you in our face besides; and a wave 
which we had some hope of behind there, broken all to pieces 
out at sea and laying a great white tablecloth of foam all the 
way to the shore, as if the marine gods were to dine off it! 
Alas, for these unhappy "arrow shots" of Nature! She will 
never hit her mark with those unruly waves of hers, nor get 
one of them into the ideal shape, it we wait for a thousand 
years. 

Going back from ocean to river, we see that all rivers, small 
or large, agree in one character; they like to lean a little on 
one side; they cannot bear to have their channels deepest in 
the middle, but will always, if they can, have one bank to sun 
themselves upon, and another to get cool under; one shingly 
shore to play over where they may be shallow and foolish and 
■childlike; and another steep shore under which they can pause 
and purify themselves, and get their strength of waves fully 
together for due occasions. Itivers in this way are just like 
wise men who keep one side of their life for play and another 
for work; and can be brilliant and chattering and transparent 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 525 

when they are at ease, and yet take deep counsel on the other 
side when they set themselves to the main purpose. And riv- 
ers are in this divided, also, into wicked and good; the good 
rivers have serviceable deep places all along their banks that 
ships can sail in, but the wicked rivers go scoopingly, irregu- 
larly, under their banks until they get full of strangling eddies 
which no boat can row over without being twisted against the 
rocks, and pools, like wells, which no one can get out of but. 
the water-kelpie that lives at the bottom ; but, wicked or good, 
the rivers all agree in having two sides. 

Again, how beautiful are the mountains. Let the reader 
imagine the appearance of the most varied plain of some richly 
cultivated country; let him imagine it dark with graceful 
Woods and soft with deepest pastures; let him fill the space of 
it to the utmost horizon with innumerable and changeful in- 
cidents of scenery and life; leading pleasant streamlets through 
its meadows, strewing clusters of cottages beside their banks, 
tracing sweet footpaths through its avenues, and animating its 
fields with happy flocks and slow wandering spots of cattle; 
and when he has wearied himself with endless imagining and 
left no space without some loveliness of its own, let him con 
ceive all this great plain with its infinite treasures of natural, 
beauty and happy human life, gathered up in God's hand from 
one end of the horizon to the other, like a woven garment; 
then shaken into deep falling folds as the robes droop from a 
king's shoulders; all its bright rivers leaping into cataracts 
along the hollows of its fall, and all its forests rearing them- 
selves aslant against its slopes, as a rider rears himself back 
when his horse plunges; and all its villages nestling themselves 
into the new windings of its glens; and all its pastures thrown 
into steep waves of greensward dashed with dew along the 
edges of their folds, and sweeping down into endless slopes 
with a cloud here and there lying quietly, half on the grass, 
half in the air; and he will have as yet in all this lifted world, 
only the foundation of one of the great Alps. 

It would be as absurd to think it an evil that all the world 
is not fit for us to inhabit, as to think it an evil that the globe 



•526 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

is no larger than it is. As much as we shall ever need is evi- 
dently assigned to ns for our dwelling place; the rest covered 
with rolling waves or drifting sands, fretted with ice or crested 
with fire, is set before us for contemplation in an uninhabita- 
ble magnificence; and that part which we are enabled to in- 
habit owes its fitness for human life chiefly to its mountain 
ranges which, throwing the superfluous rain off as it falls, 
•collect it ir) streams or lakes and guide.it into given places. 

In some sense, a person who has never seen the rose-color 
of the rays of dawn crossing a mountain twelve or fifteen 
miles away, can hardly be said to know what tenderness in 
color means at all; bright tenderness he may, indeed, see in 
the sky or in a flower, but this grave tenderness of the far- 
away hill-purples he cannot conceive. 

Together with this great source of pre-eminence in mass of 
color, we have to estimate the influence of the finished inlay- 
ing and enamel-work of the color-jewelry on every stone; and 
that of the continual variety in species of flower; most of the 
mountain flowers being, besides, separately lovelier than the 
lowland ones. The wood hyacinth and wild rose are, indeed, 
the only supreme flowers that the lowlands can generally 
show; and the wild rose is also a mountaineer and more fra- 
grant in the hills, while the wood hyacinth or grape hyacinth 
at its best cannot match even the dark bell-gentian, leaving 
the light-blue star-gentian in its uncontested queenliness, and 
the Alpine rose and Highland heather wholly without simili- 
tude. The violet, lily of the valley, crocus, and wood anemone 
are claimable partly by the plains as well as the hills; but the 
large orange lily and narcissus are never seen but on hill pas- 
tures, and the exquisite oxalis is pre-eminently a mountaineer. 

If the most exquisite orchestral music could be continued 
without a pause for a series of years, and children were brought 
up and educated in the room in which it were perpetually re- 
sounding, I believe their enjoyment of music or understand- 
ing of it would be very small. And an accurately parallel 
effect seems to be produced upon the powers of contemplation 
by the redundant and ceaseless loveliness of the high mountain 



HAPPINESS IN. SOCIAL LIFE. 527 

districts. The faculties are paralyzed by the abundance and 
cease to be capable of excitement, except by other subjects of 
interest than those which present themselves to the eye. 

So that it is, in reality, better for mankind that the forms of 
their common landscape should offer no violent stimulus to the 
emotions, — that the gentle upland, browned by the bending 
furrows of the plough and the fresh sweep of the chalk down, 
and the narrow winding of the copse-clad dingle, should be 
more frequent scenes of human life than the Arcadias of cloud- 
capped mountain or luxuriant vale;, and that, while humbler 
(though always infinite) sources of interest are given to each 
of us around the homes to which we are restrained for the 
greater part of our lives, these mightier and stranger glories 
should become the objects of adventure — at once, the cyn- 
osures of the fancies of childhood and the themes of happy 
memory and winter's tale of age. 

Look also at the beauty of trees and forests ! One of the 
most remarkable characters of natural leafage is the constancy 
with which, while the leaves, are arranged on the spray with 
exquisite regularity, that regularity is modified in their actual 
effect. For as in every group of leaves, some are seen side- 
ways, forming merely long lines, some are foreshortened, some 
crossing each other, every one differently turned and placed 
from all the others, the forms of the leaves, though in them- 
selves similar, give rise to a thousand strange and differing 
forms in the group; and the shadows of some passing over the 
others, still father disguise and confuse the mass until the 
eye can distinguish nothing but a graceful and flexible dis- 
order of innumerable forms, with here and there a perfect leaf 
on the extremity, or a sj^mmetrical association of one or two, 
just enough to mark the specific character and to give unity 
and grace, but never enough to repeat in one group what was 
done in another — never enough to prevent the eye from feel- 
ing that, however regular and mathematical may be the struc- 
ture of parts, what is composed out of them is as various and 
infinite as any other part of nature. 

Nor does this take place in general effect only. Break off 



528 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

an elm bough three feet long in full leaf, and lay it on the ta- 
ble before you and try to draw it, leaf for leaf. It is ten to 
one if in the whole bough, (provided you do not twist it about 
as you work,) you find one form of a leaf exactly like another; 
perhaps you will not even have one complete. Every leaf will 
be oblique or foreshortened or curled or crossed by another or 
shaded by another, and though the whole bough will look 
graceful and symmetrical, you will scarcely be able to tell how 
or why it does so, since there is not one line of it like another. 

The resources of trees are not developed until they have 
difficulty to contend with; neither their tenderness of broth- 
erly love and harmony till they are forced to choose their 
ways of various life where there is contracted room .for them,, 
talking to each other with their restrained branches. The va- 
rious action of trees rooting themselves in inhospitable rocks, 
stooping to look into ravines, hiding from the search of glacier 
winds, reaching forth to the rays of rare sunshine, crowding 
down together to drink at sweetest streams, climbing hand in 
hand among the difficult slopes, opening in sudden dances 
round the mossy knolls, gathering into companies at rest 
among the fragrant fields, gliding in grave procession over the 
heavenward ridges, — nothing of this can be conceived among 
the nnvexed and unvaried feclicities of the lowland forest:, 
while to all these direct sources of greater beauty are added, 
first the power of redundance, — the mere quality of foliage 
visible in the folds and on the promontories of a single Alp 
being greater than that of an entire lowland landscape (unless 
a view from some cathedral tower); and to this charm of re- 
dundance, that of clearer visibility, — tree after tree being con- 
stantly shown in successive height, one behind another, instead 
of the mere tops and flanks of masses, as in the plains; and. 
the forms of multitudes of them continually defined against 
the clear sky, near and above, or against white clouds entan- 
gled among their branches instead of being confused in dim- 
ness of distance. 

Lastly, in this rapid view of natural beauty consider the 
tender blade of grass. The Greek delighted in the grass for 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 529 

its usefulness; the mediaeval, as also we moderns, for its color 
and beauty. But both dwell on it as the first element of the 
lovely landscape; Dante thinks the righteous spirits of the 
heathen enough comforted in Hades by having even the im- 
age of green grass put beneath their feet; the happy resting- 
place in Purgatory has no other delight than its grass and 
flowers; and finely in the terrestrial paradise do the feet of 
Matilda pause where the Lethe stream first bends the blades of 
grass. Consider a little what a depth there is in this great 
instinct of the human race.' Gather a single blade of grass 
and examine for a minute, quietly, its narrow, sword-shaped 
strip of fluted green. It seems to have been made only to be 
trodden on to-day and to-morrow to be cast into the oven. 
And yet among all the gorgeous flowers that beam in summer 
air, none are so deeply loved or highly graced as these com- 
panies of soft, countless and peaceful spears. 

The fields ! "What should we recognize in these words? All 
spring and summer is in them, — the walks by silent, scented 
paths, — the rests in noonday heat, — the joy of herds and 
flocks, — the power of all shepherd life and meditation, — the 
life of sunlight upon the world falling in emerald streaks and 
failing in soft blue shadows where else it would have struck 
upon the dark mould or scorching dust, — pastures beside the 
pacing brooks and soft banks and knolls of lowly hills, — thymy 
slopes of down overlooked by the blue line of lifted sea, — 
crisp lawns all dim with early dew or smooth in evening 
warmth of barred sunshine, dinted by happy feet and soften- 
ing in their fall the sound of loving voices: all these are sum- 
med in those simple words; and these are not all. 

Go out in the spring-time among the meadows that slope 
from the shores of the Swiss lakes to the roots of their moun- 
tains. There, mingled with the taller gentians and the white 
narcissus, the grass grows deep and free; and as you follow 
the .winding mountain paths beneath arching boughs all veiled 
and dim with blossom, — paths that forever droop and rise over 
the green banks and mounds sweeping down in scented undu- 
lation, steep to the blue water, studded here and there with 
34 



530 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

new-mown heaps filling all the air with fainter sweetness, — 
look up towards the higher hills where the waves of everlast- 
ing green roll silently into their long inlets among the shad- 
ows of the pines; and we may, perhaps, at last know the 
meaning of those quiet words of the 147th Psalm, "He maketh 
grass to grow upon the mountains." 
And thus it is seen that 

"All natural objects liave 
An echo in the heart. The flesh doth thrill 
And has connection by some unseen chain 
With its original source and kindred substance. 
The mighty forest, the proud tides of ocean, 
Sky-clearing hills, and in the vast of air 
The starry constellations, and the sun, 
Parent of life exhaustless— these maintain 
With the mysterious mind and breathing mould 
A co-existence and community." 

In passing from natural to human beauty, we should expect 
to find a comeliness and completeness in human beings that 
we do not find in the world of nature; for men and women, 
alone of all G-od's creatures, are made in the divine image, and 
therefore ought to be more perfect in form and feature. But 
what are the facts in the case? Behold, a sudden change! 
No longer among the individuals of the race is there equality 
or likeness, a distributed fairness and fixed type visible in each, 
but evil diversity, and terrible stamp of various degradation; 
features seamed with sickness, dimmed by sensuality, con- 
vulsed by passion, pinched by poverty, shadowed by sorrow, 
branded with remorse; bones full of the sin of our. youth; 
bodies consumed with sloth, broken down by labor, tortured 
by disease, dishonest in foul uses; intellects without power, 
hearts without hope, minds earthly and devilish. 

This is indeed a somewhat fearful catalogue of human 
blemishes, but a true and unexaggerated one, nevertheless. 
Hence, a part of the right work of life should be an attempt 
to restore to the body the grace and the power which these 
various causes tend to destroy, to the spirit its pristine purity, 
and to the intellect its native grasp and vigor. 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 531 

Beauty in man or woman, but especially in the latter, is a 
power and a possession not to be despised. It contributes an 
important quota to the sum of human happiness. It is a pos- 
itive blessing, when not abused. If women could but look 
into the hearts of men they would discover that much of the 
dissatisfaction with wives, much of the absence from them of 
husbands, much of the disagreeable in the home, results from 
indifference to their personal appearance. Many ladies, after 
the heyday of youth is passed, seem to make no effort to set 
off their charms to the best advantage, save as they occasionally 
spur to some extraordinary display. Often domestic duties, 
maternity and its cares — always a trial to the nerves, strength 
and ambition — exclude them more or less from society until 
they lose all interest and become indifferent to its demands. 
This is followed by inattention to the person. Even dress is 
neglected, and the deportment looses the queenly grace and 
gentleness so essential to lady-like bearing. 

Others seem to have aimed only to secure a husband. At 
their wedding receptions and earlier at homes they exhibit 
rare taste and culture, are exquisite in make-up and brilliant in 
•conversation, but with the wane of the honeymoon they relapse 
into indifference, indolence and e?mui, as if their lives had 
been strained to such tension in the effort to catch a husband, 
that the cord was all but ready to snap when they won the 
prize, and now the inevitable reaction seems to follow. They 
are nearly always en neglige in the presence of their husbands; 
lose all zest for society, or on the other hand exhaust their en- 
ergies to appear fascinating in company, reserving nothing 
better for husband and home than languid indifferejice. 

Others, stillappear to believe personal attractiveness, elabo- 
ration in dress, and gracious manners are for those particularly 
whose future is dependent upon their charms — the young and 
gay; that polish and feminine graces, like perfumes and gems, 
must be reserved for the circles of the beau rnondej that the 
brush and chisel of time should be allowed to color and hack 
at pleasure; that the arts cle toilette are a vulgar deception 
.and all attempts to make themselves beautiful at home are 
but waste of time. 



532 . THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

Beauty in woman must ever be cultivated; by it she endears- 
herself to her husband and is admired by the world ; without 
it, though she may have been the idol of a husband's love for 
years and the mother of his children, she may drive him to 
seek it elsewhere. It is impossible to make home happy while 
abandoning all the little amenities that come of culture, ignor- 
ing courtesy, dignity and elegance in the family circle, and 
putting on those refinements with the dress for social occa- 
sions; in other words, having two sets of manners, one for 
home, and one for society. 

To a certain degree, it is a laudable ambition in woman to 
wish to be attractive. As God made her fair and comely in 
person, so she should seek to preserve her charms as long as 
is consistent with due attention to higher duties and aims. 
All the noted beauties of any age have striven hard to preserve- 
their loveliness. Diana of Poitiers devoted herself assidu- 
ously all her life to the arts of the toilet and the methods- 
which assisted nature, looking especially to health, and was as 
charming at sixty as any at thirty. Ninon de PEnelos was 
also celebrated for almost fadeless beauty, so preserving her 
beauty of contour and freshness of complexion to extreme old 
age that many believed she had discovered the secret of per 
petual youth. Mary, Queen of Scots, whose beauty was con- 
spicuous in its effects upon history, never, amid the shifting 
and tumultuous scenes about her, neglected the details that 
lent the most brilliant effects to her beauty. Nor was Marga- 
ret of Anjou less devoted to the preservation of her personal 
charms. 

Beauty, however, will ever vary according to age, place, 
taste and prejudice. We could not expect all to admire the 
black, sparkling eye, black hair, and dark, rich complexion of 
Cleopatra; many would like the pale, melancholy blonde. No 
formula can" satisfy all opinions. To do this it would have to 
meet all the sentiments, passions and instincts that inspire to 
the worship of beauty. In youth it is the plump damsel, 
pulsating with budding womanhood, fresh and lovely in her 
innocence, with waxen complexion, carnation lips shaped like 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 066 

CJupid's bow, laughing eyes, white teeth and shapely arms 
that we admire. In after years it is the matured, self-poised 
woman, quiet in repose, with charms denned and pronounced, 
majestic in air and carriage, serene and dignified in deport- 
ment — a beauty like that which Montalembert ascribes to 
Elizabeth of Hungary, the most beautiful woman of her time. 
He says, "Her beauty was regular and perfect, her entire fig- 
ure left no improvement to be desired in it. Her complex- 
ion was dark and clear, her hair black, her figure of unrivaled 
elegance and grace, her walk full of nobleness and majesty." 

But what constitutes true beauty in man or woman, and 
how can it best be preserved and increased? The most com- 
mon method employed is to make a liberal use of brush, pow- 
der, pencil, etc. But beauty which is only surface deep is 
liable to prove as evanescent as the passing cloud. We shall 
not go, however, into the mysteries of the toilet here, or stop 
to consider definitely the value of cosmetics and rouges. 
There are some legitimate aids to natural forces in this matter, 
and these can be sought out and applied at leisure. But real, 
enduring beauty of face or person must come not from any 
external applications, but from within. Good health, proper 
habits, regular exercise, diet and dress, all have more or less 
to do with it, but the main source of beauty is in the mind. 

The intellectual powers, when regularly trained and em- 
ployed, cut and chisel the features into proportion and grace 
by removing from them all signs of sensuality and sloth by 
which they are blunted and deadened, and substituting energy 
and intensity for vacancy and insipidity (by which alone the 
faces of many fair women are utterly spoiled and rendered 
valueless), and by the keenness given to the eye, and the fine 
moulding and development of the brow. 

It has been well said that the highest style of beauty to be 
found in nature pertains to the human form, as animated and 
lighted up by the intelligence within. It is the expression of 
the soul that constitutes this superior beauty. It is that 
which looks out at the eye, which sits in calm majesty on the 
brow, lurks on the lip, smiles on the cheek, is set forth in the 



534 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

chiseled lines and features of the countenance, in the general 
contour of figure and form, in the movement, and gesture, and 
tone; it is this looking out of the invisible spirit that dwells 
within, this manifestation of the higher nature, that we ad- 
mire and love; this constitutes to us the beauty of our species.. 

Hence it is that certain features, not in themselves particu- 
larly attractive, wanting, it may be, in certain regularity of 
outline, or in certain delicacy and softness, are still invested 
with a peculiar charm and radiance of beauty from their pecu- 
liar expressiveness and animation. The light of genius, the su- 
perior glow of sympathy, and a noble heart, play upon those 
plain, and it may be, homely features, and light them up with 
a brilliant and regal beauty. These, as every artist knows, are 
the most difficult to portray. The expression changes with 
the instant. Beauty flashes and is gone, or gives place to a 
still higher beauty, as the light that plays in fitful corrusca- 
tions along the Northern sky, coming and going, but never 
still. 

The same is true of the moral and social feelings of the- 
heart. Love is a great beautifier of the face. The emotions 
which do most disfigure the countenance are pride, sensuality, 
fear, cruelty, agitation, enmity, cunning, deceit, anger. While 
on the other hand the great moral and social beautifiers are 
self-command, unagitated trust, deep-looking love, faith and 
goodness. In fact, all virtues impress fairness upon the fea- 
tures and exercise an influence upon the whole person. Even 
movement and gestures, however slight, are different in their 
modes according to the mind that governs them, and on the 
gentleness and decision of just feeling there follows a grace of 
action, and through continuance of this a grace of form, which 
by no discipline may be taught or attained. 

This kind of beauty perishes not. It wreaths the counte- 
nance of every doer of good. It adorns every honest face. It 
shines in the virtuous life. It molds the hands of charity. 
It sweetens the voice of sympathy. It sparkles on^the brow 
of wisdom. It flashes in the eye of love. It breathes in the 
spirit of piety. It is the beauty of the heaven of heavens. 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 535 

It is that which may grow by the hand of culture in every 
human soul. It is the flower of the spirit which blossoms on 
the tree of life. Every soul may plant and nurture it in its 
own garden. This is the capacity for beauty that God has 
placed within the reach of all. Though our forms may be 
uncomely and our features not the prettiest, our spirits may 
be beautiful. And this inward beauty always shines through. 
A beautiful heart will flash out in the eye. A lovely soul 
will glow in the face. A sweet spirit will tune the voice and 
wreathe the countenance in charms. There is a power in in- 
terior beauty that melts the hardest heart. As N. P. Willis 
has truly said: 

Beauty may stain 
The eye with a celestial blue — the cheek 
With carmine of the sunset; she may breathe 
Grace into every motion, like the play 
Of the least visible tissue of a cloud ; 
She may give all that is within her own 
Bright cestus— and one glance of intellect, 
Like stronger magic, will outshine it all. 

Therefore Mrs. Osgood gives the following pertinent ad- 
vice: 

The blush will fade, 
The light grow dim which the blue eyes wear, 
The gloss will vanish from curl and braid, 
And the sunbeam die in the waving hair. 
Turn from the mirror and strive to win 
Treasures of loveliness which will last ; 
Gather earth's glory and bloom within, 
That the soul may be young, when youth is past. 



536 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

Decorum and Dress. 

There's nothing in the world like etiquette. 

Byron. 

Study with care politeness that must teach 
The proper forms of gesture and of speech ; 
That moves with easy, though with measured pace, 
And shows no part of study but the grace. 

Stillingfleet. 

What's a fine person or a beauteous face, 
Unless deportment gives them decent grace ? 
Blessed with all other requisites to please, 
We* still do need the elegance of ease. 

Churchill. 

r ^ 

HAT beauty is to the person, that decorum or polite- 
ness is to the intercourse of social life. And just as a 
beautiful form and face add attractiveness and convey 
pleasure to the home circle, or to the social gathering, so 
elegant manners adorn and make agreeable the whole round of 
human companionship, whether existing in business, social, or 
religious life. General amiability, as has been well said, will 
oil the creaking wheels of life more effectually than any un- 
guents which can be supplied by mere wealth or station. 

Chesterfield says: "As learning, honor and virtue are abso- 
lutely necessary to gain you the esteem and admiration of 
mankind, politeness and good breeding are equally necessary 
to make you welcome and agreeable in conversation and com. 
mon life. Great talents, such as honor, virtue, learning and 
arts, are above the generality of the world, who neither possess 
them themselves nor judge of them rightly in others. But all 




HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 537 

people are judges of the lesser talents, such as civility, affabil- 
ity and an obliging, agreeable address and manner, because 
they feel the good effects of them as making society easy and 
pleasing." ■ 

As a beautiful picture displays the art of the painter, and 
inspiring music that of the musician, so deportment is the art 
of the lady or gentleman. G-ood nature is often vulgar, blunt 
and offensive; good breeding refines, tones and finishes man- 
ner. Deportment, therefore, belongs to culture. Human 
nature in general is groveling; gentility of deportment is ele- 
vating. To act naturally is commendable, if nature be toned 
by culture; to act naturally without refinement is to act the 
boor. To be a true lady or gentleman, therefore, is to curb 
and mold our natural impulses, encourage our better prompt- 
ings, associate only with the pure and refined, accustom our- 
selves to doing everything decently, orderly and elegantly at 
all times, regarding the feelings of others, respecting ourselves, 
and allowing nothing to disturb a courteous, dignified behav- 
ior. Etiquette is simply decorum or manners systematized 
and adapted to the various phases of social intercourse, recog- 
nized and established by fashionable usage. 

In every sense, the subject of manners, says Ralph Waldo 
Emerson, has a constant interest to thoughtful persons. Who 
does not delight in fine manners? Their charm cannot be 
predicted or overstated. ? Tis perpetual promise of more than 
can be fulfilled. It is music and sculpture and picture to 
many who do not pretend to appreciation of those arts. It is 
even true that grace is more beautiful than beauty. Yet how 
impossible to overcome the obstacle of an unlucky tempera- 
ment, and acquire good manners, unless by living with the 
well-bred from the start; and this makes the value of wise 
forethought to give ourselves and our children as much as 
possible the habit of cultivated society. 

'T is an inestimable hint that we owe to a few persons of 
fine maimers, that they make behavior the very first sign of 
force, — behavior, and not performance, or talent, or much less, 
wealth. While almost everybody has a supplicating eye 



538 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

turned on events and things and other persons, a few natures 
are central and forever unfold, and these alone charm us. He 
whose word or deed you cannot predict, who answers you 
without any supplication in his eye, who draws .his determi- 
nation from within, and draws it instantly, — that man rules. 

Manners are stronger than laws. Nature values manners. 
Who teaches manners of majesty, of frankness, of grace, of 
humility, — who but the adoring aunts and cousins that sur- 
round a young child? The babe meets such courting and 
flattery as only kings receive when adult; and, trying experi- 
ments, and at perfect leisure with these posture masters and 
flatterers all day, he throws himself into all the attitudes that 
correspond to theirs. Are they humble? he is composed. 
Are they eager? he is nonchalant. Are they encroaching? he 
is dignified and inexorable. And this scene is daily repeated 
in hovels as well as in high houses. 

Nature is the best posture-master. An awkward man is 
graceful when asleep, or when hard at work, or agreeably 
amused. The attitudes of children are gentle, persuasive? 
royal, in their games and in their house-talk and in the street, 
before they have learned to cringe. 'Tis impossible but 
thought will dispose the limbs and the walk. No art can 
contravene it, or conceal it. Give me a thought, and my hands 
and legs and voice and face will all go right. And we are- 
awkward for want of thought. The inspiration is scanty, and 
does not arrive at the extremities. 

Manners are the revealers of secrets, the betrayers of any 
disproportion or want of symmetry in mind and character. 
It is the law of our constitution that every change in our ex- 
perience instantly indicates itself on our countenance and car- 
riage, as the lapse of time tells itself on the face of a clock. 
We may be too obtuse to read it, but the record is there. 
Some men maybe too obtuse to read it, but some men are not 
obtuse and do read it. Nature made us all intelligent of these 
signs, for our safety and our happiness. While certain faces, 
are illumined with intelligence, decorated with invitation, 
others are marked with warnings: certain voices are hoarse 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 539' 

and truculent; sometimes they even bark. There is the same 
difference between heavy and genial manners as between the 
perceptions of octogenarians and those of young girls who see 
everything in the twinkling of an eye. 

The world sets large store by the exterior of people. It can 
not always stop to examine into their morals, education or 
positive merit; but whatever may be the standard of apprecia- 
tion, there are very few who can say they do not court the- 
world's good graces. With the wisdom of Solomon, the virtue 
of Caesar's wife, the piety of Fenelon, the wealth of a Roths- 
child, without a knowledge of how to please, we have no fixed 
place in the popular heart. How to please, then, embodies 
much. "We cannot ignore regulations imposed by polite so- 
ciety and still expect to please, for polite society rules the 
world. 

First, then, we must question ourselves concerning our nat- 
ural instincts; are they coarse, selfish, overbearing, unforgiv- 
ing, dishonest; have we bad tempers; are we suspicious 
and fault-finding; are we inclined to make ourselves miserable 
as well as those we meet? It should be our first effort to sub- 
due such qualities, for any exhibition of them is fatal to 
harmony. 

Almost the first requisite to a lady is good common sense. 
While this admits of piquancy, naivete, and all the charming 
femininities, as well as dignity, it is also a host arrayed in 
her favor. Affability, a sweet temper under all circum- 
stances, a manner mild, yet firm, a sensitive and delicate tem- 
perament, yet without too evident self-consciousness and 
prudishness of disposition, are admirable qualities. You can 
not please without being truly polite, and to this end amiabil- 
ity and good nature are necessary. 

True politeness comes from a knowledge of ourselves and 
respect for others, and constitutes propriety of deportment 
coupled with good nature and a desire to please. Neither 
rank, beauty, wealth, talents nor position can dispense with it. 
It enters into every feature of social intercourse, and it is here 
you are measured, weighed and stamped. It is here that your 



540 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

true culture will assert itself. To avoid this, you must not 
Lave two sets of manners, one for home and another for society. 
The same deference to others, the same graces of deportment 
and geniality, must at all times characterize you. You can- 
not eat improperly, or indulge in slang or bad grammar at 
home without the fact betraying you when you will regret it 
sorely. 

Life is not so short but that there is always time enough 
for courtesy. Self-command is the main elegance. "Keep 
cool, and you command everybody," said St. Just; and the 
wily old Talleyrand would still say, "Above all, gentleman, 
no heat." ' Tis a rule of manners to avoid exaggeration. A 
lady loses as soon as she admires too easily and too much. In 
man or woman, the face and the person lose power when they 
are on the strain to express admiration. A man makes his 
inferiors his superiors by heat. Why need you, who are not 
a gossip, talk as a gossip, and tell eagerly what the neighbors 
or the journals say? State your opinion without apology* 
The attitude is the main point, assuring your companion that' 
come good news or come bad, you remain in good heart and 
good mind, which is the best news you can possibly commu- 
nicate. Self-control is the rule. You have in you there a 
noisy, sensual savage which you are to keep down, and turn 
all his strength to beauty. 

Show a proper respect for the opinions of others, and be 
firm, yet modest, in the assertion of your own. Always dis- 
play that self-consciousness which one should feel, that you 
are as good as others, and demand equal respect. If you do 
not respect yourself, others will not respect you. Yery many 
are afflicted with over-sensitiveness, a feeling of inferiority, 
which is liable, if not overcome, to render one ridiculous at 
times. More offensive are they who seek to convey the im- 
pression that they "know it all." This betrays ignorance, 
conceit and immodesty. Never exhibit vulgarity in action o r 
expression. Rude conduct, awkward motions and positions, 
indicate either a lack of respect for others, or that your asso- 
ciations are low. 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 511 

Exercise a due regard for all little courtesies and elegances.. 
In your associations with the opposite sex, let these never be 
neglected. Do not hurry. Promptness and due haste are 
proper, but hurry and bluster tend to confusion and irritation, 
and things thus done were better not attempted. Remember, 
your manners are the sign by which your status is fixed; they 
are ever open to criticism, and always determine your caste.. 
You should take care that the first impressions be favorable. 
In the drawing room, at table, at the party or ball, on the 
street, everywhere, you should be impressed with the fact 
that you are to be respected as a lady or gentleman, and that 
as such you respect others, and trust them accordingly. 

Among the most brilliant and serviceable social accomplish- 
ments is the art of holding: agreeable and wise conversation. 
The ability to talk intelligently, wittily and well, is not pos- 
sessed by all. Society to-day seems sadly wanting in brilliant 
talkers. We have a few good conversationalists, but only a. 
few. Every lady should cultivate this art and attain to such 
excellence in it as she may. To say enough and say it well, 
npon any subject, to modulate the tones, to be ready with ap- 
propriate words, wit and repartee at the right time, uniting 
the same with a fascinating manner, are social attractions 
which come quite as much from cultivation as from a natural 

gift. 

Madame de Stael, by the unanimous consent of all who 
knew her, was the most extraordinary converser that wa& 
known in her time, and it was a time full of eminent men and 
women; she knew all distinguished persons in letters or soci- 
ety, in England, Germany, and Italy, as well as in France, 
though she said, with characteristic nationality, "Conversa- 
tion, like talent, exists only in France." Madame de Stael 
valued nothing but conversation. She said one day, seriously, 
to M. Mole, "If it were not for respect to human opinions, I 
would not open my window to see the Bay of Naples for the 
first time, while I would go five hundred leagues to talk with 
a man of genius whom I had not seen." 

Sto. Beuve tells us of the privileged circle at Coppet, that, 



M2 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

after making an excursion one day, the party returned in two 
coaches from Chambery to Aix, on the way to Coppet. The 
first coach had many rueful - accidents to relate, — a terrific 
thunder-storm, shocking roads, and danger and gloom to the 
whole company. The party in the second coach, on arriving, 
heard this story with surprise; — of thunder-storm, of steeps, 
of mud, of danger, they knew nothing; no, they had forgot- 
ten earth, and breathed a purer air; such a conversation be- 
tween Madame de Stael and Madame Recamier and Benjamin 
Constant and Schlegel! they were all in a state of delight. 
The intoxication of the conversation had made them insensible 
to all notice of weather or rough roads. Madame de Tesse 
said, "If I were Queen, I should command Madame de Stael 
to talk to me every day." Conversation fills all gaps, sup- 
plies all deficiencies. What a good trait is that recorded of 
Madame de Main tenon, that, during dinner, the servant slip- 
ped to her side, "Please madame, one anecdote more, for there 
is no roast to-day. 1 ' 

In conversation, be considerate of the feelings of others. 
Women are usually quicker at repartee, have more confidence, 
^and not seldom avail themselves of the privileges of their sex 
to "cut" severely. Men may be brave and strong, may have 
coarse exteriors and manners, and be unable to cope in conver- 
sation with you, but remember they have hearts, and it is no 
mark of a true lady to hurt the feelings needlessly of any one 
however tempting the occasion to appear brilliant. Men are 
peculiarly sensitive in the presence of women, and the more 
they admire the less are they able to display what gifts they 
possess. 

Have the courage to ask questions; courage to expose igno- 
rance. The great gain is, not to shine, not to conquer your 
companion, — then you learn nothing but conceit, — but to find 
a companion who knows what you do not; to tilt with him 
and be overthrown, horse and foot, with utter destruction of 
all your logic and learning. There is a defeat that is useful. 

Shun the negative side. Never worry people with your con- 
tritions, nor with dismal views of politics or society. Never 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 54:3 

name sickness; even if you could trust yourself on that peri- 
lous topic, beware of unmuzzling a valetudinarian, who will 
soon give you your fill of it. 

The law of the table is a respect to the common soul of all 
the guests. Everything is unseasonable which is private to 
two or three or any portion of the company. Tact never vio- 
lates for a moment this law 7 ; never intrudes the orders of the 
house, the vices of the absent, or a tariff of expenses, or pro- 
fessional privacies; as we say, we never "talk shop" before 
company. Lovers abstain from caresses, and haters from in- 
sults, while they sit in one parlor with common friends. 

Stay at home in your mind. Don't recite other people's 
opinions. See how T it lies there in you; and if there is no 
counsel, offer none. What we want is not simple activity or 
interference with your mind, but your ability to be a vehicle 
of the simple truth. The way to have large occasional views, 
as in a political or social crisis, is to have large habitual views. 
When men consult you, it is not that they wish you to stand 
tiptoe, and pump your brains, but to apply your habitual 
view, your wisdom, to the question in hand without pedantry. 

Let conversation be adapted skillfully to the company en- 
gaging in it. Some men make a point of talking common- 
places to all ladies alike, as if a woman could only be a trifler. 
Others, on the contrary, seem to forget in what respects the 
education of a lady differs from that of a gentleman, and 
commit the opposite error of conversing on topics with which 
ladies are seldom acquainted. A woman of sense has as much 
right to be annoyed by the one, as a lady of ordinary educa- 
tion by the other. You cannot pay a finer compliment to a 
woman of refinement and esprit than by leading the conver- 
sation into such a channel as may mark your appreciation ot 
Jier peculiar attainments. 

Do not use a classical quotation in the presence of company 
without apologizing for, or translating it. Even this should 
only be done when no other phrase would so aptly express 
your meaning. Whether in the presence of ladies or gentle 
men, much display of learning is pedantic and out of place. 



544 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

Remember that people take more interest in their own af- 
fairs than in anything else which you can name. If you wish 
your conversation to be thoroughly agreeable, lead a mother 
to talk of her children, a young lady of her last ball, an au- 
thor of his forthcoming book, or an artist of his exhibition 
picture. Having furnished the topic, you need only listen; 
and you are sure to be thought not only agreeable, but thor- 
oughly sensible and well-informed. 

There is a certain distinct but subdued tone of voice which 

is peculiar to only well-bred persons. A loud voice is both 

disagreeable and vulgar. It is better to err by the use of too 

low than too loud a tone. One can always tell a lady by her voice 

and laugh— neither of which will ever be loud or coarse, but soft, 

low, and nicely modulated. Shakespere's unfailing taste tells- 

us that 

A low voice is an excellent thing in woman. 

Indeed, the habit of never raising the voice would tend 
much to the comfort and happiness of many a home; but as 
a proof of good breeding, it is unfailing. 

Remember that all "slang" is vulgar. It has become of 
late unfortunately prevalent, and we have known even ladies 
pride themselves on the saucy ease with which they adopt 
certain cant phrases of the clay. Such habits cannot be too 
severely reprehended. They lower the tone of society and 
the standard of thought. It is a great mistake to suppose that 
slang is in any way a substitute for wit. 

Long arguments in general company, however entertaining 
to the disputants, are tiresome to the last degree to all others. 
You should always endeavor to prevent the conversation from 
dwelling too long upon one topic. 

Those who introduce anecdotes into their conversation are 
warned that these should invariably be " short, witty, eloquent,, 
new, and not far-fetched." Some persons have an awkward 
habit of repeating the most striking parts of a story, especially 
the main point, if it has taken greatly the first time. This is 
in very bad taste, and always excites disgust. In most cases, 
the story pleased the first time, only because it was unex- 
pected. 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 545 

Endeavor to have the habit of talking well about trifles. 
Be careful never to make personal remarks to a stranger on 
any of the guests present; it is possible, nay probable, that 
they may be relatives, or at least friends. 

A gentleman should never permit any phrase that ap- 
proaches to an oath, to escape his lips. If any man employs 
a profane expression in the drawing-room, his pretensions to 
good-breeding are gone forever. The same reason extends to 
the society of men advanced in life; and he would be singu- 
larly defective in good taste, who should swear before old 
persons, however irreligious their own habits might be. 

Listening is not only a point of good-breeding and the best 
kind of flattery, but it is a method of acquiring information 
which no man of judgment will neglect. " This is a common 
vice in conversation," says Montaigne, "that instead of gath- 
ering observations from others, we make it our whole business 
to lay ourselves open to them, -and are more concerned how to 
expose and set out our own commodities, than how to increase 
our stock by acquiring new. Silence therefore, and modesty 
are very advantageous qualities in conversation." 

The interjection of such phrases as, "You know," "You 
see," "Don't you see? " "Do you understand?" and similar 
ones that stimulate the attention, and demand an answer, 
ought to be avoided. Make your observations in a calm and 
sedate way, which your companion may attend to or not, as 
he pleases, and let them go for what they are worth. 

To avoid wounding the feelings of another, is the key to 
almost every problem of manners that can be proposed; and 
he who will always regulate his sayings and doings by that 
principle, may chance to break some conventional rule, but 
will rarely violate any of the essentials of good-breeding. 
Judgment and attention are as necessary to fulfill this precept 
as the disposition j for by inadvertence or folly as much pain 
may be given as by designed malevolence. Those who scat- 
ter brilliant jibes without caring whom they wound, are as 
unwise as they are unkind. Those sharp little sarcasms that 
bear a sting in their words, rankle long, sometimes forever 
* 85 



54:6 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

in the mind, and fester often .into a fatal hatred never to be 
abated. 

When a man goes into company, he should leave behind 
him all peculiarities of mind and manners. That, indeed, 
constituted Dr. Johnson's notion of a gentleman; and as far as 
negatives go, the notion was correct. It is in bad taste, par- 
ticularly, to employ technical or professional terms in general 
conversation. Young physicians and lawyers often commit 
that error. The most eminent members of those occupations 
are the most free from it; for the reason, that the most emi- 
nent have the most sense. 

The foregoing rules are not simply intended as good advice. 
They are strict laws of etiquette, to violate any one of which 
justly subjects a person to the imputation of being ill-bred. 
But they should not be studied as mere arbitrary rules. The 
heart should be cultivated in the right manner until the acts 
of the individual spontaneously flow in the right channels. 

A recent writer remarks on this subject: "Conversation is 
a reflex of character. The pretentious, the illiterate, the im- 
patient, the curious, will as inevitably betray their idiosyn- 
crasies as the modest, the even-tempered and the generous* 
Strive as we may, we cannot always be acting. Let us there- 
fore, cultivate a tone of mind and a habit of life the betrayal 
of which need not put us to shame in the company of the 
pure and wise; and the rest will be easy." 

Intimately connected with a proper decorum is the matter 
of dress. But on this subject, so extensive in itself and so 
infinitely complicated, we can only give some general hints. 
As first impressions are apt to be permanent, it is of great 
importance that they should be favorable; and the dress of an 
individual is that circumstance from which you first form your 
opinion of him. It is even more prominent than manner. It 
is indeed the only thing which is remarked in a casual en- 
counter, or during the first interview. 

What style is to our thoughts, dress is to our persons. It 
may supply the place of more solid qualities, and without it 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. . 5-1-7 

tjie most: solid are of little avail. Numbers have owed their 
elevation to their attention to the toilet. Place, fortune, mar- 
riage have all been lost bv ne^lectin^ it. 

. Dress should always be consistent with age and natural ex- 
terior. That which looks ill on one person, will be agreeable 
on another. Some ladies, perhaps imagining that they are 
deficient in personal charms, endeavor to make their clothes 
■the spell of their attraction. With this end in view, they 
labor by lavish expenditure to supply in expensive adornment 
what they lack in beauty of form or feature. Unfortunately 
for their success, elegant dressing, does not depend upon ex- 
pense. A lady might wear the costliest silks that Italy could 
produce, adorn herself with laces from Brussels which years 
of patient toil are required to fabricate; she might carry the 
jewels of an Eastern princess around her neck and upon her 
wrists and fingers, yet still, in appearance, be essentially vul- 
gar. These were as nothing without grace, without adapta- 
tion, without a harmonious blending of colors, without the 
■exercise of discrimination and good taste. 

The most appropriate and becoming dress is that which so 
liarmonizes with the figure as to make the apparel unobserved. 
-When any particular portion of it excites the attention, there 
is a defect, for the details should not present themselves first, 
but the result of perfect dressing should be an elegant whole, 
the dress commanding no especial regard. Men are but in- 
different judges of the material of a lady's dress; in fact, they 
•care nothing about the matter. A modest countenance and 
pleasing figure, habited in an inexpensive attire, would win 
more attention from men, than awkwardness and effrontry 
•clad in the richest satins and the costliest gems. 

Chesterfield asserts that a sympathy goes through every ac" 
tion of our lives, and that he could not help conceiving some 
idea of people's sense and character from the dress in which 
they appeared when introduced to him. Another writer has 
remarked that he never yet met a woman whose general style 
of dress was chaste, elegant and appropriate, that he did not 



548 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

find her on further acquaintance to be, in disposition and mind,, 
an object to admire and love. 

Lavater has urged that persons habitually attentive to their 
attire, display the same regularity in their domestic affairs. 
He also says: "Young women who neglect their toilet and 
manifest little concern about dress, indicate a general disre- 
gard of order — a mind but ill adapted to the details of house- 
keeping — a deficiency of taste and of the qualities that inspire 
love." 

The practice of using paints is a habit strongly to be con- 
demned. If for no other reason than that poison lurks beneath 
every layer, inducing paralytic affections and premature death, 
they should be discarded — for they are a disguise which de- 
ceives no one, even at a distance; there being a ghastly death- 
liness in the appearance of the skin after it has been painted,, 
which is far removed from the natural hue of health. 

A lady has to consider what colors best suit her complexion. 
Blue, for instance, never looks well upon those of a dark com- 
plexion; nor pink upon those of a florid conplexion. Yellow 
is a very trying color, and can only be worn by the rich-toned 
brunettes. Attention to these particulars is most important. 
Longitudinal stripes in a lady's dress make her appear taller 
than she really is, and are, therefore, appropriate for a person 
of short stature. Flounces give brevity to the figure, and are 
therefore only adapted to tall persons. 

The dress should always be adapted to the occasion. Noth- 
ing is more proper for the morning than a loosely made dress, 
high in the neck, with sleeves fastened at the wrist with a. 
band, and belt. It looks well, and is convenient. For a 
walking dress, the skirt should be allowed only to just touch 
the ground; for while a train looks well in the drawing-room, 
and is inconspicuous in a carriage or opera-box, it serves a, 
very ignoble purpose in sweeping the street. Ladies' shoes 
for walking should be substantial and solid. 

Never dress above your station; it is a grevions mistake 
and leads to great evils, besides being the proof of an utter 
want of taste. Care more for the nice-fitting of your dress- 



HAPriNESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 519 

than for its material. An ill-made silk is not equal in its ap- 
pearance to the plainest material well made. Never appear 
to be thinking about your dress, but wear the richest clothes 
and the plainest with equal simplicity. Nothing so destroys 
a good manner as thinking of what we have on. 

The dress for church should be plain and simple. It should 
be of dark, plain colors for winter, and there should be no 
superfluous trimmings or jewelry. It should, in fact, be the 
plainest of promenade-dresses, since church is not the place 
for the display of elaborate toilets, and no woman of consider- 
ation would wish to make her own expensive and showy toilet 
an excuse to another woman, who could not afford to dress in 
a similar manner, for not attending church. 

There is no place where a woman appears to better advantage 
than on horseback. Taking it for granted that our lady 
reader has acquired the art of riding, she must now be pro- 
vided with a suitable habit. -Her habit should fit perfectly 
without being tight. The skirt should be full and long; enough 
to cover the feet, while it is best to omit the extreme length, 
which subjects the dress to mudspatterings and may prove a 
serious entanglement in case of accident. 

Waterproof is the most serviceable for a riding costume. 
Something lighter may be. worn in summer. In the lighter 
costume a row to two of shot should be stitched in the bottom 
•of the breadths to keep the skirt from blowing up in the wind. 

The riding-dress should be made to lit the waist closely and 
button nearly to the throat. Coat sleeves should come to the 
wrist, with linen cuffs beneath them. It is well to have the 
waist attached to a skirt of the usual length and the long skirt 
fastened over it, so that if any mishap obliges the lady to dis- 
mount she may easily remove the long overskirt and still be 
properly dressed. 

The shape of the hat will vary with the fashion, but it should 
■always be plainly trimmed; and if feathers are worn, they 
must be properly fastened so that the wind cannot possibly 
blow them over the wearer's eyes. 

All ruffling, puffing or bows in the trimming of a riding- 



550 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

dress is out of place. If trimming is used it should be put on? 
in. perfectly flat bands or be of braiding. The hair must be put 
up compactly; neither curls nor veil should be allowed to- 
stream in the wind. No jewelry except what is absolutely 
necessary to fasten the dress and that of the plainest kind, is- 
allowable. 

There is no place where, the true lady is more plainly indi- 
cated than in traveling. A lady's traveling costume should 
be neat and pretty, without superfluous ornament of anykind- 
The first consideration in a traveling-dress is comfort; the 
second, protection from the dust and stains of travel. For a 
short journey in summer a linen duster may be put on over 
the ordinary dress, in winter a waterproof cloak may be used 
in the same way. But a lady making a long journey will find 
it more convenient to have a traveling-suit made expressly.. 
Linen is used in summer, as the dust is so easily skaken from 
it and it can be readily washed. In winter a waterproof dress- 
and sacque are the most serviceable. 

There are a variety of materials especially adapted for trav- 
eling costumes, of soft neutral tints and smooth surfaces, 
which do not catch dust. These should be made up plain and 
short. The underskirts should be colored woolen in winter, 
linen in summer. Nothing displays vulgarity and want of 
breeding so much as a gaudy petticoat in traveling. 

Gloves should be of Lisle thread in summer and cloth in 
winter. Thick soled boots, stout and durable. The hat or 
bonnet should be neatly trimmed and protected by a large 
veil. Velvet is not fit for a traveling-hat, as it catches and 
retains the dust. Clean linen collars and cuffs finish the cos- 
tume. The hair should be put up in the firmest manner- 
possible. 

A waterproof and a warm woolen shawl are indispensable 
in traveling. Also a satchel or basket, in which may be kept 
a change of collars, cuffs, gloves, handkerchiefs and toilet arti- 
cles. A traveling-dress should be well supplied with pockets. 
The waterproof should have large pockets; so should the 
sacque. In an underskirt there should be a pocket in which 



HAPPINESS IN SOCIAL LIFE. 551 

to carry all money not needed for immediate use. The latter 
may be entrusted to the ordinary pocket, or in the bosom of 
the dress. 

With this topic, we close onr treatment of Part II. of this 
volume. In it the reader will find very few subjects omitted 
that are germane to its title and aim, and we feel confident 
that the carrying out of the suggestions contained therein, 
would increase by a large measure the aggregate amount of 
happiness to be legitimately found in social and family life. 




pakt in. 

The Heavenly Highway to Eternal Life. 



And an Highway shall he there, and it shall be called The way of Holi- 
ness; the unclean shall not pass over it; no lion, nor any ravenous beast 
shall go up thereon ; but the Redeemed shall walk there. 

Isaiah, xxxv : 8, 9. 

complaint. 

"The way is long, my Father! and my soul 
Longs for the rest and quiet of the goal : 
While yet I journey through this weary land, 
Keep me from wandering. Father, take my hand ; 
Quickly and straight 
Lead to Heaven's gate, 
Thy child!" 



<* Is the way long, my child ? But it shall be 
Not one step longer than is best for thee, 
And thou shalt know, at last, when thou shalt stand 
Safe at the goal, how I did take thy hand, 
And quick and straight 
Led to Heaven's gate 
My child!" ' 

553 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. ' 555 



INTRODUCTORY. 



The writer approaches this part of his work with a degree 
of solicitude. It is uo easy or light thing to point out the 
highway to eternal life. If, on all other subjects, " many men 
have many minds," the same is doubly true of religious sub- 
jects. Dry den wrote a long time ago that 

Divines do say but what themselves believe; 
Strong proofs they have, but not demonstrative. 
For, were all plain, then all sides must agree, 
And faith itself be lost in certainty. 

There is some truth in the thought conveyed in these lines. 
Even St. Paul -acknowledges that "great is the mystery of god- 
liness," and such it surely is. Still, religion in its origin and 
nature is no more mysterious than a hundred other things 
with which we have to do in this world, and, therefore, it is 
not to be shunned or ignored on this account. 

Besides, whatever men may say or think, religion is one of 
the indisputable y#cfe of life, and, therefore, is a proper object 
of study and investigation. As the world in which we live is 
a fact, so is God, its great Creator; since it is absurd to sup- 
pose there could be an effect like this, without an adequate 
cause. The existence of the human soul and its immortal 
nature are facts of which every one is conscious within his own 
breast — any amount of so-called scientific supposition or de- 
duction to the contrary, notwithstanding. There is, therefore,, 
a future world, and a future life for the soul in that world, the 
character of which is dependent upon the life we now possess. 
There must also be two states of being in that future world 
corresponding to the popular ideas embodied in the words, 



556 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

heaven and hell. Furthermore, the Christian church is a fact, 
demonstrated, real, tangible. Worship and prayer are realities, 
both to the soul and to the eye. Sin and holiness are not only 
opposite, but determinative and definite quantities in the world. 
So are faith and love, as well as hate and unbelief. The Bibte, 
too, is a fact, as well as a book. 

Here we are, then, surrounded by a vast host of religious 
facts and spiritual realities which, properly understood and ar- 
ranged, make up the heavenly highway to eternal life. We 
propose to deal with these now, just as we have with the facts 
and realities pertaining to success in business life, and happi- 
ness in social and family life. It will be no more necessary to 
stop and prove the existence of things connected with religious 
life, than it has been with business or social life. One set 
of facts is just as common as the other, and just as generally 
understood and recognized. It is true, " The fool hath said in 
his heart, There is no God," but this class constitute only a very 
small and minor portion of the race. The large majority ot 
people on the earth have a God and a religion of some kind. 
Our chief concern, therefore, will be more to point out the 
true religion, than to waste time and space endeavoring to 
prove the existence of one. We shall try to so marshal the 
facts of religious life that the reader can see before him the 
path of safety through this world to that brighter and better 
one above to which we give the name of Heaven. 

The writer is aware that there is a large lot of stuff and 
nonsense in the world, passing under the name of religion, 
which disgusts every sensible person who comes in contact 
with it; all of which will be very carefully avoided in this vol- 
ume. We shall cling tenaciously in what we have to say to 
the shores of common sense, and be guided by admitted facts 
in human nature, in the outside world, and. in the Bible. We 
shall try to build up no particular creed or sect, nor, on the 
other hand, shall we be knowingly false to any clearly-revealed 
truth pertaining to our theme. With these preliminary ob- 
servations, reader, let us at once set out on the Heavenly 
Highway. 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 557 



CHAPTER I. 

Outlines of Tkue Religion. 

"Life's mystery — deep, restless as the ocean — 
Hath surged and wailed for ages to and fro ; 
Earth's generations watch its ceaseless motion, 
As in and out its hollow moanings flow. 
Shivering and yearning by that unknown sea, 
Let my soul calm itself, O G-od ! in Thee. 

" The many waves of thought, the mighty tides, 
The ground-swell that rolls up from other lands, 
From far-off worlds, from dim, eternal shores, 
Whose echo dashes o'er life's wave-worn strands; 
This vague, dark tumult of the inner sea 
Grows calm, grows bright, O risen Lord ! in Thee. 

" Thy pierced hand guides the mysterious wheels, 
Thy thorn-crowned brow now wears the crown of power ; 
And when the dark enigma presseth sore, 
And thy calm voice saifh, ' Watch with me one hour,' 
Then, as sinks a moaning river in the sea, « 
So sinks my soul, in silent peace, in Thee." 

Although religions of various kinds are as old as the race^ 
and their doctrines and phenomena, long since settled into a 
positive science, constitute an object of study and investiga- 
tion; although the gospel of Jesus Christ has been preached 
for more than eighteen hundred years, and what is known as 
Christianity has permeated all departments of business and 
social, private and public life, and has become as familiar to 
us as any other earthly experience, yet, if one were to ask a 
hundred representative persons this precise, definite question: 
What is true religion? the variation in the answers would be 
not only a matter of surprise, but calculated to awaken within 
the mind profound solicitude and anxious thought. These 
answers would doubtless arouse in the mind such queries as- 



558 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

these: Is it possible that the vast majority of mankind are 
mistaking, after all, the true highway and are walking in the 
""broad road" under erroneous convictions or views of truth? 
Is it possible that all the manifold means of enlightenment 
respecting the true interpretation of Scripture avail nothing? 
Is the race, in spite of all efforts put forth to the contrary, in- 
evitably blinded and foredoomed to destruction on account of 
incorrigible perverseness of nature ? It would seem so, verily; 
and Christ's words faintly foreshadow as much, when he says, 
mournfully, concerning the true way, " and few there be who 
find it." 

The causes of this variation in belief are manifold and com- 
plex. Prominent among them is the lack of diligent, earnest, 
protracted study of the New Testament; a study, that goes 
down to the roots of words and doctrines, instead of merely 
skimming the surface. Again, the power of early religious 
training and associations has much to do with it; peculiar- 
ities of temperament and disposition ; the strength and depth 
of one's native ability and intellectual culture — all combining 
to make up the individual lens through which religion is re- 
garded. 

If a mounted globe, with its surface divisions into islands, 
seas, and continents, all painted in different colors, were placed 
in the center of a school-room, and each scholar, from where 
iie sat should be called upon to answer this precise, definite 
question, What is the earth? the variation in the answers 
would doubtless be full} 7 as great as in the case before instanced, 
respecting the question, What is religion? And for precisely 
the same reasons. The scholar's position in the room, his an- 
tecedents and advantages, the accuracy and extent of his 
information, his mental ability, and especially the influence of 
those who sat near him, all combining, would determine his 
reply. Now, both the earth and religion are alike in that both 
are spherical in their completeness and therefore many-sided; 
in that both are practically inexhaustible in extent; yet by 
proper study and accurate observation both can be so far com- 
prehended as that no fatal mistakes shall arise on account of 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 559 

necessary ignorance. Says Dr. Goulburn: "There are several 
points of view from which Christianity may be surveyed; and 
although it be one and the same object from whatever point 
we look, yet eyes placed on different levels will see it grouped 
in different perspectives." 

Inasmuch, then, as upon our right understanding of what 
religion is, depends our welfare for two worlds; inasmuch as 
many biases and predispositions are liable to warp and pervert 
our definition of it, can we do better than examine at the 
outset a few of the fundamental facts and considerations re- 
specting it, which must be taken into the account before we 
can ever hope to gain a just and accurate understanding of 
its nature. 

To begin with, in ascertaining the nature of true religion 
it will be necessary to have a true conception of the character 
of God. All religion starts here; and very much more de- 
pends upon this article of faith than is generally supposed. 
A wrong view of the character of God will thoroughly vitiate 
a whole system of doctrinal belief. Every false system of doc- 
trine in the world, every erroneous religious belief, every false 
sect, or denomination, every heretical church, every system of 
idolatry the world over, among civilized or uncivilized, springs 
from a false view of the character of God. This may not ap- 
pear to be the leading defect or error, in some ca?es, but when 
any system is thoroughly analyzed, and the taint is traced to 
its true source, it will lead to this fundamental conception; 
and from this apparently insignificant fountain, this little 
spring of error, the fatal heresy widens and deepens, as it reaches 
out into conclusions and results, until the whole system is 
poisoned. 

What, then, let us ask with some degree of earnestness, is 
the real and true character of God; what the leading and cen- 
tral attribute in Lis infinite personality; and if we were called 
upon to describe the character of God in a single word, what 
would that word be? "We answer, God is a Holy Being; holi- 
ness being the substratum of his character, the foundation of 
all his attributes and perfections, and the leading principle 



560 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

actuating all his dealings with his creatures. This quality 
may be said to constitute the nucleus of the Godhead ; to be 
the one central characteristic or attribute of his nature to 
which all the others yield homage, and by which they are 
measured and modified. Everything bends to this; this deter- 
mines the nature of God's government over the world ; this is 
the source of all moral law; this furnishes the only complete 
and consistent explanation of all his arrangements with men. 

Turning back to those primeval revelations of his character 
which God himself made to the world under the Mosaic dis- 
pensation, we hear him styling himself " the Holy One; " we 
hear him saying, "I, the Lord your God, am holy." (Lev.,. 
xx:25, and 26.) The same truth underlies and gives signifi- 
cance to the whole Jewish system of sacrifices; it stamps, as 
it were, all the surroundings of Deity. Thus his angels, who 
wait on him, are the Holy Angels ; the Scriptures, containing 
his will, are the Holy Scriptures f the faith he imparts to the 
soul, is a most Holy faith, Christ his Son, is the Holy One 
and the Just; and the Spirit who proceeds from him to sanctify 
his children, is the Holy Spirit. Holiness is also set forth as- 
the end of Christian attainment and perfection here on earth. 
"Be ye holy, for 1 am holy, saith the Lord." " Follow peace 
with all men and holiness, without which no man shall see the- 
Lord." 

The importance of love in the Divine character has been 
excessively advocated of late years, because it is the sheet- 
anchor of all those who hope to be saved somehow without 
that new birth or change of heart so absolutely indispensable^ 
While allowing its just and true place in the collection and 
classification of attributes, it can never be placed first and 
foremost without giving us a distorted view of God's charac- 
ter; and as we have already seen, such a distorted view will 
prevent us from ever obtaining a correct answer to our ques- 
tion: What is religion? 

In thinking of God, then, we should look upon him as a 
Being holy, just, and good, and in that order; as containing 
within himself all power, wisdom, and love, and in that order;. 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 561 

as Creator of the Universe and God of all grace, and in that 
order; as the great omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent 
Spirit, eternal and immutable, and as exercising both a natural 
and moral government over the earth. Says the well-known 
hymn: 

Holy and reverend is the name 

Of God, our only King, 
And holy, holy, holy cry 

The angels when they sing. 

The deepest reverence of the mind 

Pay, O my soul ! to God; 
Lift with thy hands a holy heart 

To his sublime abode. 

Just and true are all thy ways, 

And great thy works above all praise ; 

Humbled in the dust, we own, 
Thou art holy, thou alone. 

The second prerequisite in understanding the nature of true 
religion, is to have a proper view of the character of man. 
Is it like or unlike that of God, just considered? Is holiness 
or unholiness the distinguishing and predominating trait? 
By the word holiness, as applied to God, is meant " infinite 
moral purity seeking purity, and delighting in it." Can the 
same be said to be the characteristic of man? 

The Bible has never been sufficiently valued as containing 
the most accurate description of human nature ever given to 
the world, or ever found in any writings human or divine. 
There are multitudes who accept readily and cheerfully all 
that the Bible reveals to us concerning the character of God 
who inwardly or openly repudiate much of what is therein 
found concerning the character of man. But why should this 
be done ? Does not the experience of the world confirm the 
statements of the Bible? Are not the records of human his- 
tory, corroborative of the records of Scripture? Does not ob- 
servation tell the same story? And are not the facts of daily 
life all on one side? That man who denies human guilt and 
a transmitted, hereditary bias toward sin and wickedness, de- 
36 



562 - THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

nies the plain testimony of his senses. What would any hu- 
man science be good for that ignored the facts relating to it, 
or that refused to admit the actual state of the case? And 
how can any one hope to have a true idea of religion if he will 
not admit the facts concerning the nature of man; or of what 
value would that religion be which ignored the true state of 
the case? Side by side, therefore, with a right view of the 
character of God, must be placed an equally correct view of 
the nature of man. What is that nature? 

To describe it in a single word, as with the character of God, 
man is unholy; morally unclean and impure; just the opposite 
of his Maker. Whatever may have been his original state, or 
however he may have transferred himself from that state into 
his present one, man's moral character now, as demonstrated 
by the facts of daily life, by the records of history, is one of 
unlikeness to that of God ; and this fact must ever stand at the 
basis of any true system of religion. Not that this is all of 
man's complex nature; but so far as religion is concerned, this 
is the deepest and most underlying fact of his being. Not that 
man is entirely destitute of goodness, as we commonly use the 
word goodness ; for man is still created in the image of God 
as before the fall. But whatever may be the amount of bis 
goodness, as estimated by our earthly standards, he has no 
goodness or holiness which can justify him at the bar of God. 
Examine any man's life and character, and while there will be 
many things amiable and noble, as estimated among men; yet, 
when the heart is held up to inspection, and the character of 
its motives are examined, and the secret, all-controlling pur- 
pose of its existence exposed, it will be found to be in direct 
antagonism with those two fundamental canons of moral ob- 
ligation, "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with ail thy 
heart, and thy neighbor as thyself." And on account of this 
want of conformity to God's standard of goodness and holi- 
ness, is man pronounced morally unclean; the opposite of that 
which he should be and must be before he can hope to find 
that heavenly way which leads unto eternal life. 



SAFETY IX RELIGIOUS LIFE. 563 

And with this conclusion agree all the poets, and all careful, 
experienced observers of mankind. Says Shakespere: 

There's no trust, 
No faith, no honesty in men ; all perjured, 



Says Otway: 



Trust not man who is by nature false, 
Dissembling, subtle, cruel and inconstant. 



Says Dean Swift: 



Vain human kind ! fantastic race, 
Tl^ various follies who can trace? 
Self-love, ambition, envy, pride, 
Their empire in our hearts divide. 

Says Thomson: 

Wliat is the mind of man ? A restless scene 
Of vanity and weakness; shifting still, 
As shift the lights of his uncertain knowledge, 
Or as the various gale of passion breathes. 

Says Ralph Waldo Emerson: 

Man crouches and blushes, absconds and conceals, 
He creepeth and peepeth, he palters and steals; 
Infirm, melancholy, jealous, glancing around, 
An oaf, an accomplice, he poisons the ground. 

Then Young, looking on both sides of human nature, ex- 
claims: 

How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, 
How complicate, how wonderful is man! 
An heir of glory! a frail child of dust! 
Helpless immortal ! insect infinite ! 

Having now considered the character of God and man sep- 
arately, let us look at them in their mutual relations. 

It is evident that before a holy God and sinful men can ever 
be brought together, or brought into sympathy with each 



564' THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

other, one or the other party must be changed into the moral* 
likeness of the other, so that there can be some basis of union, 
and some ground for fellowship; for "what concord hath light 
with darkness." It is still further evident that God cannot 
change himself to the state of man, without destroying his 
own nature and the foundations of the moral universe, and 
upturning all the established laws of right and truth ; and it 
is also evident, both from the testimony of Scripture and the- 
results of continued experience, that man, without some 
higher power operating upon him, cannot change himself into 
the moral likeness of God. 

There is now imperatively needed a Being in whom both 
parties can meet and unite; and that being is Christ, the God- 
man who forms in himself the connecting link between the 
divine and human, Creator and created. Consequently, there 
can be no true religion which in any way depreciates, ignores, 
or perverts the mediatorship of Christ; there can be no such 
thing as a true view of the nature of religion, where Christ, 
does not at once occupy the central position and throne, and_ 
where he is not at once the way to God, the truth of God in- 
carnate, and the very life of God in the soul. A religion 
without Christ must either be a low, degraded, blind supersti- 
tion, or at best, a cold, abstract, monotonous contemplation. 
God and man, in their mutual relations, can meet and be in 
harmony only in Christ, who embodies both in himself and so 
mediates, reconciles, satisfies. 

Next, there is needed some power to change man's nature 
and bring it into oneness with God; to create within man's 
soul, now alienated from God, a desire to repent and seek for- 
giveness; a desire to pray for strength and light from above; 
and this power is the Holy Spirit sent from God to dwell in 
man's soul. Accordingly no religion can be the true one 
which leaves out the offices of the Spirit. Christ the media- 
tor, as now situated, is nearer God than man; for we read that 
"he ever liveth to make intercession at God's right hand in 
Heaven." But when Christ left the earth, he told his disci- 
ples he would send unto them the Spirit, who should be even. 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 565 

nearer to them than lie himself had been while with them, for 
the Spirit should be in them, and should dwell with them, 
which he himself, of course, could not forever clc. And so 
the Spirit stands in the same relation to man, that Christ does 
to God; thus making a communication of power both instant 
•and effective between the heart and the throne. This Spirit 
changes man's nature by changing the direction of his moral 
affections, and thus starting him on that course of religious 
development which brings him nearer to God the longer it is 
•continued. This Spirit leads man to see himself, enlightens 
the mind, clarifies the perceptions and understanding, and 
shows him Christ as the way, the truth, and the life. He 
also leads him and helps him to pray for assistance from God 
in the effort to be like him. In a word, there could be no 
mutual relations established between God and man in a religous 
sense, without the offices of both of these intercessors; Christ 
with the Father, the Holy Spirit in the soul. 

One thing more is requisite, and that is a Guide-Book of in- 
structions. For if man is to be like God, or one with him in 
nature, he must know what God is, and what he requires; and 
this necessitates a Revelation of God's will, which is given to 
man in the Bible. In crossing over that immense moral space 
between man and God, man would surely be lost but for ex- 
plicit instructions from the farther end of the route ; and these 
:iire given to him in the Bible. In entering into mutual rela- 
tions with God, there must needs be articles of specification, 
and some general fundamental principles and laws; and these 
.are given to man in the Bible. Still more, there must needs 
be an external, objective test or standard by which to measure 
-and gauge man's inward, spiritual experiences; and this in- 
fallible test-book is the Bible. As Bishop Burgess puts it: 
"All true religion must be Scripture religion, all worship 
Scripture worship, all zeal, Scripture Zeal ; so that, let a man 
have never such sublime knowledge, such burning zeal, yet if 
it be not according to the law and the testimony, there is no 
light in him. To say, 'it's upon my conscience, or it's upon 
my spirit, I find much comfort and sweetness in such and such 



566 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

things' — is nothing; for all false religions can and do say as- 
much. But hast thou the Word of God to warrant thee? 
Doth that justify thee? All things else are but an empty shad- 
ow." Therefore we must ever say of the Bible as did Barton,, 

Lamp of our feet ! whereby we trace 

Our path when wont to stray , 
Our guide, our chart ! wherein we learn 

Of realms of endless day. 

Childhood's preceptor! manhood's trust! 

Old age's firm ally! 
Pillar of fire, through watches dark, 

To radiant courts on high. 

There are now before us five constituent parts which enter- 
in to and compose what must be the true religion, since it 
takes into account all \h.Q facts on which such a religion must 
build. These facts are, as we have seen, a correct view of the 
nature of God; an equally correct view of the nature of man,. 
and a consideration of God and man in their mutual relations 
as v established through the offices of Christ, the Holy Spirit, 
and the Bible. And these facts are the way-marks of the 
heavenly highway that leadeth unto life eternal. Such a re- 
ligion must be the true one because it is reasonable, systematic,, 
consistent, and complete; making adequate provision for the 
honor of God and the welfare of man; it embraces all the es- 
sential ideas of religion, and no single part can be left out, 01 
modified, without destroying the value of it all. Indeed, so 
important are each and all of these different features, that it 
requires some attention and care on the part of man to give- 
each part its due and proper regard. 

There are hosts of people who are partly right; who accept, 
some one or more of these constituent ideas and doctrines of 
true religion; who are sometimes in the right way; but, alas ! 
they incorporate so much of error into their system, and re- 
ject so many of the facts which must be received in order to 
include the essentials; and they are so often outside the true 
way, that their aberrations, their departures, their unlawful ex- 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LTFE. 567 

cursions into the "broad road," are more numerous than their 
straight-forward steps. 

Truth and error in religion, as in everything else, are both 
absolute and relative quantities; that is, they not only exist 
separately and independantly, but in connection and in con- 
junction with each other. They sometimes run like the two 
parallel tracks of a railway, side by side, with numerous and 
open switches between, so that a man can pass from one to the 
other before he is himself aware of the transition. There is 
but one path of safety, and a hundred paths of danger. By 
leaving out, or by explaining away, any one of the five ele- 
ments mentioned in this chapter, man leaves, the heavenly 
highway and starts off into a wilderness of weary wanderings 
where paths of all sorts and kinds intersect and cross each 
other in such a bewildering maze, that the only possible end- 
ing of his search is to be hopelessly lost. Thousands upon 
thousands of human beings are now, and have been wandering 
about in this wilderness; therefore our great concern, as already 
stated, is to guide the reader, if possible, into the true path 
which has but one ending in life and peace above. Hence we 
repeat that God, man, Christ, the Holy Spirit, and the Bible, 
are the five foundation stones on which the Heavenly Temple 
is built, and if any one is omitted from the ground-work of 
your faith, the temple for you will always remain closed. 

Does the reader feel inclined to ask, How do we know that 
this constitutes the true religion? We reply, because it rests 
upon admitted facts in human nature, in the outside world, 
and in the Bible; because it is inherently complete and har- 
monious: and because it is in full accordance with the highest 
permanent results of the best thinking which the world of 
mind has yet produced. Millions have accepted these truths 
and facts and have been saved, and millions more are now 
clinging to them as shipwrecked mariners to a rock in the 
midst of dashing billows. As the pious Faber has sung: 

To angels' eyes 
This Rock its shadow multiplies, 
And at this hour in countless places lies. 



568 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

One Rock, one shade 

O'er llinusands laid — 

Rest in the Shadow of this Rock I 

In the Shadow of this Rock 

Abide! Abide! 
Ages are laid beneath its shade. 

'Mid skies storm-riven 
It gathers shadows out of heaven, 
And holds them o'er us all night cool and even. 

Through the charmed air 

Dew falls not there — 
Rest in the Shadow of thi3 Rack I 




SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 569 



CHAPTER II. 

Invisibility of God and Heaven. 

There's a land far away 'mid the stars, we are told, 

Where they know not the sorrows of time, 
Where the sweet waters wander through valleys of gold, 

And life is a treasure sublime. 
'Tis the land of our God, 'tis the home of the soul, 
Where rivers of pleasure unceasingly roll, 
And the way-worn traveler reaches his goal 
On the Evergreen Mountains of Life. 

Our gaze'cancot soar to that beautiful land, 

But our visions have told of its bliss; 
And our souls by the gale from its gardens are fanned, 

When we faint in the desert of this. 

James G. Clark. 

'The way is dark, my child, but leads to light, 
I would not always have thee walk by sight. 
My dealings now thou canst not understand. 
I meant it so ; but I will take thy hand, 

And through the gloom 

Lead safely home 
My child!" 

Heaven lies around us like a f cloud— 

A world we do not see ; 
Yet the sweet closing of an eye 

May bring us there to be. > 

Mbs. H. B. Stowe. 

"Upon the frontier of this shadowy land 
We pilgrims of eternal sorrow stand : 
The realm that lies forward with its happier store 




570 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

Of forests green arid deep, 
Of valleys hushed in sleep, 
And lakes most peaceful, is the land of 
Evermore.'' 

ANY years ago, Prof. Austin Phelps of Andover r 
Mass., in a little work entitled "The Still Hour," 
wrote: "One of the most impressive mysteries of 
the condition of man on this earth, is his depriva- 
tion of all visible and audible representations of 
God. Christians seem to be living in a state of 
seclusion from the rest of the universe, and from that pecu- 
liar presence of God in which angels dwell, and in which de- 
parted saints serve him day and night. We do not see him 
in the fire; we do not hear him in the wind; we do not feel 
him in the darkness." 

Now, we think it can be satisfactorily shown that this con- 
dition of invisibility with regard to God and heaven is no 
"impressive mystery" at all, but simply a divinely-ordained 
fact established for the best and wisest of purposes. Such 
language as the above is more redolent of the spirit of the 
Old Testament than of the New. There are many passages 
in the Old Testament which contain the same idea, but none 
in the "New. Thus David says, speaking of God, " Clouds 
and darkness are round about him." And the poor, afflicted 
Patriarch of Uz also exlaims, "Oh that I knew where I 
might find him, that I might come even to his seat. Behold 
I go forward, but he is not there; and backward but I cannot 
perceive him; on the left hand, but I cannot behold him; on 
the right hand, but I cannot see him. For he is not a man as 
I am, that we should come together." 

Still, nearly all minds have at times without doubt felt the 
same perplexity. There is in human nature a strong craving 
after the same visibility and tangibility in heavenly things, 
that exist among the earthly. We are ourselves visible and 
tangible, and all material objects and interests about us are 
so, and we naturally desire that the objects of our faith should 
partake of the same character; forgetting that "the things 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 571 

that are seen are temporal, while the things that are not seen 
are eternal;" forgetting, as the Pharisees did at one time, that 
the kingdom of God is within and hidden, rather than with- 
out and observable. 

So far as viewing the upper world is concerned, we are, while 
in life, imprisoned within material walls. And in onr weak, 
imperfect, unchristian moods we can easily see how the pa- 
thetic and piteous language of Job would become the natural 
plaint of universal human nature. Especially would this be 
true, when one was wearied and fainting from incessant bat- 
tling against spiritual difficulties, or when surrounded by 
immediate and appalling dangers. For it has been true for 
1800 years that the heavens o'erhead, wrapped in unbroken 
silence, look down with seeming indifference upon the strug- 
gling masses beneath, while the earth, in sluggish muteness, 
gives no sign of sympathy. It is true that from out the clear, 
blue depths above, no glimpse of God or Heaven hath ever 
been vouchsafed to man since Jesus ascended, and John closed 
up all outward visions at Patmos; neither has any audible 
voice been heard. It is true, that so far as outward manifes- 
tations are concerned, we all worship a God appreciable to us 
only through his Works, and his Word. But what of it, so 
long as we have so many better things to take the place of 
all this? 

Sometimes, too, this feeling is liable to be engendered by a 
continued reading and study of the Old Testament to the se- 
clusion of the New. There we learn that in former days God, 
through his messengers and angels, talked with his special, 
chosen ones as a man talketh with his friend; that these mes- 
sengers often came to earth, and even ate and drank with men ; 
that intercourse with the spirit-w x orld was common and gen- 
eral; and that visible manifestations of supernal glory were 
often given. We read of Noah and Abraham aud Moses 
and Samuel, all holding some sort of converse with the inhab- 
itants of the unseen realm. 

And not only this, but even in the earlier days of the New 
Dispensation, the same state of things was perpetuated. God 



572 THE IMPEEIAL HIGHWAY. 

was then actually manifest in the flesh, and lived and ate and 
walked with men for the space of thirty-three years, and all 
could see his person, and hear the gracious words which pro- 
ceeded from his mouth, and were even privileged to sit at his 
feet and learn the ways of truth. And we further see that the 
twelve Apostles carried about with them the same supernat- 
ural power, and at times seemed more like inhabitants of 
another world, than poor, finite, limited denizens of this. And 
without doubt the wish, has been uttered by thousands that 
they could have lived in those days, instead of now; but the 
wish has been idle and vain. The clouds which closed after 
Christ's ascending form, closed up also all visible representa- 
tions of God until the day when those clouds shall again be 
parted to let through this same Jesus coming in the capacity 
of the Judge of all the earth; while in the grave of John, the 
last of the Apostles, was buried the last link of that chain of 
direct outward communication with the upper world, which 
had reached back, almost without a break, to the garden of 
Eden. But what of this, if "God has provided some better 
things for us, that they without us, should not be made per- 
fect?" 

With right views of the nature of the present spiritual dis- 
'pensatiou, this invisibility, so far from being any hindrance 
to spiritual life, is, on the contrary, a great and positive bless- 
ing. The question is: Have we been put forward or bach- 
ward by the change from past to present? Are we better off, 
or worse, than those who lived in former times? We think 
the former view to be the true one. 

Let us draw a contrast between the times of these visible 
manifestations, and our own time, and see who would be wil- 
ling to make an exchange. To place ourselves in the steps of 
those who enjoyed such manifestations, we should be obliged 
to throw away at the outset all definite knowledge of Christ, 
as our Redeemer; to be able as we looked back, to see no 
Bethlehem, no Calvary, no Olivet; but be content with what 
we call a type or shadow, the significance of which we could 
at best very imperfectly comprehend. We should have to 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 57*3- 

dispense with all printed Bibles, and in fact with printed books^ 
of all kinds, and content ourselves with a few rolls of parch- 
ment, containing some portions of the Old Testament. We 
should deprive ourselves, to a good degree, of the sustaining 
power of surrounding Christian example; we should have to 
blot out from our minds the memory of all the Christian, 
teaching we have ever received from Sabbaths and sanctuaries;, 
from Bible-classes, Sabbath schools, and prayer-meetings; and 
content ourselves with knowing or perhaps seeing that here 
and there lived one who walked with God, and occasionally 
received a visit or a vision from some heavenly intelligence 
who would talk with him a few minutes and then disappear, 
leaving the returning darkness ten-fold more dense and un- 
bearable than before. We should also be obliged to leave 
behind us our schools, our educational, eleemosynary, and be- 
nevolent institutions of all kinds, yea, our civilization itself;, 
and content ourselves with semi-barbarous customs and ex- 
periences. Who is prepared to trade? 

It is true, this picture is of the days of Enoch and Noah and 
Abraham, but one would be welcome to all the additional fea- 
tures of interest they could draw from the time of Moses to 
the birth of Christ, or from the birth to the day of Pentecost,, 
which broke up the old system and ushered in the new. 
While there would be some ameliorating circumstances dis- 
coverable in subsequent ages that were not visible at first, yet 
there would be no time when the contrast would not be as 
sharp and clearly-drawn as has already been seen. And who> 
does not feel that no amount of visible and audible represen- 
tations could possibly compensate for the loss of all which so 
emphatically constitutes our glory and our crown! 

We never shall regard the spiritual Past in its true light 
until we look upon it as a season of pupilage and tutorship.. 
The race were so ignorant religiously, so crude and undevel- 
oped, that God was obliged to employ a kind of religious 
object-teaching and pictorial illustration-system in his deal- 
ings with them, just as our missionaries now do with rude 
and semi-barbarous heathen, or as we now do with children- 



574. THE IMPEEIAL HIGHWAY. 

Instruction had to be simple, plain, open, direct, and outward, 
rather than abstract and ethical. But when in the fulness of 
time, God gave the world not simply the patterns of things in 
the heavens but rather the heavenly things themselves, then 
humanity went up from the primary and intermediate depart, 
inents of religious teaching, into rooms of a higher grade; and 
miracles and audible voices and wonderful events were only 
continued long enough to set the new system in motion, and 
then they were quietly withdrawn. And to desire to go back, 
ward to those times and things, is to desire to be treated as chil. 
dren rather than as those that are matured, cultured, and 
ripened in Christian growth and attainments. 

Another reason why the spiritual Present is better than the 
Past, is because of the superiority of a completed Bible, over 
all imperfect and half revelations of truth. It is quite a sig 
nificant fact that the Bible was completed and the old order of 
communications closed up, by one and the same man, and at 
the same time. John the Revelator received the last celestial 
vision, and also wrote the last page of Scripture; and this 
coincidence clearly intimates that thereafter God desired men 
should read, rather than dream or see. The religious knowl 
edge of those who lived under this dispensation of dreams 
and visions, was very imperfect as compared with that which 
is in the possession of every one to-day. Without doubt, to 
have possessed a copy of our completed Bible, Abraham would 
gladly have given all his wealth, and all his peculiar privileges? 
if indeed they can rightly be called such. At the best, the 
ancients had but the alphabet, while we have the full treatise. 
And although there is to us no Urim and Thummim, no Holy 
of Holies out of which come audible responses; no supernat- 
ural light, or visible mercy-seat; no pillar of cloud and lire; 
yet as a lamp to our feet and a light to our path, we have a 
Guide and a Book which speak plainer, fuller and better things 
than w T ere ever before delivered to men by prophet or oracle. 
And what though the Heavens are closed above us, the Bible 
is open before us; and what though visible signs and wonders 
have ceased about us, yet the Truth and the Life have taken 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 575 

up their abode within us. And in value the last is first, and 
the first is last. 

Still another reason for the superiority of the invisible over 
the visible is found in the active operations of the Holy Spirit 
who, as a distinct person, and a distinct power in the world, 
was hardly so much as known or heard of under the former 
dispensation. As proof of this we need cite only the express 
w r ords of Christ to his disciples, "If I go not away the Spirit 
will not come;" intimating most decidedly that the Holy 
Spirit as a distinct person and power was to take his place on 
earth and carry on and out his work in the hearts of his 
people; thus making the new, in contradistinction from the 
old, a pre-eminently spiritual dispensation. More than this* 
these silent, inaudible communications of the Spirit to the 
heart, were also to take the place of all verbal messages ad- 
dressed to the ear. 

These tw T o modes of communication, so far as effectiveness 
is concerned, can" bast'be set forth by a practical illustration. 
Two men are stationed on distant hill-tops, desiring to talk 
with each other. The natural voice is unable to span the in. 
tervening gulf with a bridge of natural sound, and so recourse 
is had to large speaking trumpets. The loud, resounding 
clangor of blasts and words reverberate through the air and 
down the hill-sides, but the noise nearly or quite drowns the 
substance of the communication. As a method, it would be 
best described as slow, difficult, and imperfect. At a later 
time and in another place, two men are stationed at even a 
greater distance and for the same purpose; but instead of em- 
ploying trumpets, they pass between them an electric wire 
with batteries at either end, and lo! they can as freely and 
easily talk as though seated side by side. 

And so the writer to the Hebrews says, u For ye are not 
come unto the mount that might be touched, nor unto black- 
ness and darkness and tempest, and the sound of a trumpet 
and the voice of words; but unto Mount Zion, the heavenly 
Jerusalem, and to God, the Judge of all, and to an innumera- 
ble company of angels and to the Church of the first-born, 



576 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

which are written in Heaven." The first method indicated 
might be called the Sinaitic; bnt Christ introduced a method 
of spiritual communication which may not be inappropriately 
called telegraphic and heavenly. And shall we say that because 
the first method was more demonstrative and noisy and out- 
wardly impressive, that therefore it was the more effective 
and the highest and best method? Does not our experience 
tell us that the chords of the heart vibrate more quickly and 
strongly to the pulsations of a spiritual current, than to mere 
words and sounds addressed to the ear, and unaccompanied 
by the Spirit? 

In the case of all verbal messages, the message is more or less 
subordinate to the messenger; but with spiritual communica- 
tions, the agent being invisible, the message itself has full 
sway, and is all-powerful. And so it has proved in modern r 
as contrasted with ancient spiritual life. 

A fourth reason why the invisible is superior to the visible 
is because it calls into exercise the ennobling power of faith. 
The maxim of the visible system was, "Obey and live;" but 
the motto of the new and spiritual is, "Believe and be saved." 
All visible manifestations, by appealing to the senses, tend to* 
encourage and directly promote unbelief; so that when Christ 
came, the greatest obstacle he encountered in his work was 
that very lack of faith which was the natural result of the 
visible system. Is it any wonder, then, that these audible com- 
munications and visible signs and miracles were withdrawn as- 
soon as possible, when their continuance was hindering the 
growth of that inward grace by which alone man could draw 
near to God and God to man, in saving relations? And for 
this very reason the system has never been revived again, be- 
cause it would have a direct tendency to ultimately destroy 
the only power in man's depraved heart that can change it 
from bad to good in God's sight. 

The keynote of all true spiritual progress, as it is the key- 
note of the spiritual dispensation, is the one, golden, transform- 
ing, heavenly word, Believe. This gives to Christian charac- 
ter a healthy, robust, manly, vigorous development; and by 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 577 

the exercise of faith we become strong in all good thinking 
and right acting. We pass from childish bondage to mature 
freedom; from a thralldom to the outward senses, to the lib- 
erty of inward trust and love. Under the former and visible 
system God led his people as it were by the hand, but it 
placed them in the position of little children whom we dare 
not trust alone. It made them weak, fitful and inconstant; 
bold indeed to execute when under the eye of their leader, 
and under the inspiration of an immediate, direct lease of 
power; but the moment their mission was accomplished, and 
the work at hand over, they sank back into comparative hes- 
itancy and feebleness. 

On the contrary, God deals with us as with free, responsible 
agents. He gives us his will in general instructions and laws 
which are sufficiently explicit to cover the whole ground of 
duty when carefully and faithfully carried out; but the appli- 
cation of those principles to details and circumstances, he 
commits entirely to us. He holds us responsible for a dil- 
igent study of the rules, and for the exercise of our highest 
wisdom and prudence in discharging the obligations they 
impose; but the liberty given us is that of a son and heir 
rather than a servant in bondage to tutors and governors. 
And as a result, while we may not, perhaps, be so bold and 
positive and confident as they were at times, we can be more 
uniform and steady, and never so much at a loss. 

And when we find it difficult to take hold of spiritual things 
by the eye and power of faith alone, receiving no help from 
external signs and symbols; when we feel sometimes like cry- 
ing out for aid in grasping the intangible and the eternal, yet 
let us remember this is the very kind of inward warfare which 
will make us valiant and true soldiers of Jesus Christ, and 
the very kind which will lead us on to ultimate and glorious 
victory. A sacrifice in the temple of Solomon might have been 
more outwardly impressive than a season of spiritual commun- 
ion in a modern prayer-meeting, but Christ knew that these 
prayer-meetings would be more conducive to our spiritual 
progress, and better fitted to qualify us for the life to come. 
3T 



0<0 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

Job and Paul may stand as fair representatives of the two 
types of character which the two systems of communication 
under consideration were fitted and calculated to produce. 
Had Job lived in Paul's time we should have had a far differ 
ent book from him than we have now, while to throw back 
Paul to Job's day would be to deprive the world of one of the 
grandest and noblest and most inspiring characters of his- 
tory, and to take from his writings all that is precious and 
powerful. 

Is it any longer, therefore, an "impressive mystery " why 
we have been deprived (if deprivation it can be called) of vis- 
ible signs and audible sounds? When God shut us up to the 
Bible and to faith, and made us dependent on the Holy Spirit, 
he immeasurably advanced us in privilege and conferred upon 
us his highest favors and blessings. All that is truly valua- 
ble in our modern civilization, all that is truly great and noble 
in individual character, has come directly from this change of 
the Old to the New. 

Still, we are not even now deprived entirely of visible 
representations of God. Over us to-day hang the same heav- 
ens that looked down upon Abraham, and these heavens de- 
clare to us, as to David, the glory of God, while the firmament 
showeth his handiwork. Day unto day uttereth speech to 
our hearts, as to theirs; while the rolling year is as full of 
Him now, as ever. God is also the same in his providences 
and judgments, though he has changed somewhat the manner 
of executing them; now working through natural laws, in- 
stead of outside them as formerly. In fact, to us as to the 
Hebrews, "the external universe is only a black screen con- 
cealing God. All things are full of, yet all distinct from Him. 
The cloud on the mountain is his covering, the muttering of 
the thunder is his voice; in the wind which bends the forest 
or curls the clouds, he is walking; the sun is still his com- 
manding eye. Whither can we go from his presence or spirit? 
At every step and in every condition we are God-enclosed, 
God-filled, God-breathing men, while a spiritual presence 
lowers or smiles on us from the sky, sounds in the wild tern- 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 579 

pest, or creeps in panic stillness along the surface of the 
ground. Then if we turn within, lo! He is there also, as an 
•eye. hung in the central darkness of our hearts." 

Then we have his completed Word, containing this sen- 
tence which all the ancients never had heard or learned, "'God 
is a spirit; and they that worship him must worship him in 
spirit and in truth." We have also the tangible history of 
the life and teachings of the incarnate and historic Christ, and 
besides we have a special and powerful method of communi- 
cation with the heavenly world, which, if not absolutely new, 
is at least more general and practical than ever before in the 
world's history; and this is prayer. "Hitherto," said Christ 
when on earth, "ye have asked nothing in my name; ask and 
receive now that your joy may be full." We are shut up to 
this, as to the Bible; and the soul that never uses this means 
of approach unto God, and never receives spiritual blessings 
from God in answer to prayeiyhas indeed good reason to com- 
plain of its fearful isolation and darkness. 

And finally we have the promise that after walking by faith 
here on earth, and enduring its conflicts, and maintaining our 
hold steadfastly upon the things which are unseen, as did Mo- 
ses, of whom it is written that he "endured as seeing him who 
is invisible, having respect unto the recompense of the re- 
ward," we shall go at length where there will be - no veil, no 
shadow, no night, no darkness or concealment. For if 
now we are compelled to see through a glass darkly; yet then, 
face to face; if now we know but in part, yet then we shaU 
know even as we are known! 



580 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 




CHAPTEK III. 

Grounds of Religious Certainty. 

"Tossed with rough winds and faint with fear, 
Above the tempest, soft and clear, 
What still small accents greet my ear ? 
'Tis I ; be not afraid. 

'Tis I who led thy steps aright, 
'Tis I who gave thy blind eyes sight, 
'Tis I, thy Lord and Life and Light ; 
Be not afraid." 



■OT long since, in the course of some miscellaneous read- 
ing we came upon the following sentence: ' ; Within 
the dim twilight of revealed spirituality, troubled ones 
'are constantly groping for the hearl's-ease that is ever denied 
the traveler this side of immortality." 

This sentence, when analyzed, is found to be 'as full of 
meaning as it is of beauty. From the writer's standpoint, he 
makes here three assertions: — first, that Revelation is a dim 
twilight; second, that all troubled or anxious ones are groping 
here for a foothold; third, that certainty in spiritual matters 
is ever denied the traveler this side of immortality, or the fu- 
ture state. 

The thought at once springs up in a believing mind, is there 
no better posture or state in which the mind can rest than 
the one indicated by this sentence? Or in other words, are 
there no good and sufficient grounds of certainty in religions 
life? Is it a fact that we are condemned to grope ever- 
more on this side of eternity in a dim twilight of doubt? Has 
not God done better than that for us with regard to Himself 
and his truth? 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 581 

t 

In striking contrast with this state of uncertainty are the 
words which we find coming from the lips of holy men of old. 
Listen to some of them. Says Job, "I know that my Re- 
deemer liveth." Says Jethro, the priest of Midian, to Moses, 
"Now I know that the Lord is greater than all gods." Says 
David, "Now I know that the Lord saveth his anointed." 
Says Peter, " Now I know of a surety that the Lord hath de- 
livered me out of the hand of Herod." Says Paul, "For I 
know whom I have believed." And again, " For we know 
that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we 
have a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal 
in the heavens." And finally John says, "These things have 
I written unto you that ye may know that ye have eternal 
life." 

Was the confident faith expressed by these writers a reason- 
able one? Can it be justified on ordinary grounds of evidence? 
Is Christ a living God and Saviour? Is the Bible true? Is 
religion a reality? And how may one know all this, or what 
are the grounds of religions certainty? 

We answer, that one may know the certainty of religious 
things by the testimony of the senses, or that evidence which 
comes to the soul through the eye and ear. There exists in f he 
universe an unvarying law which is called the law of cause 
and effect, and this law is recognized on all hands as constitu- 
ting not only an irrefragable species of evidence, but also as 
constituting one of the very sources of all knowledge and all 
certainty. This law stated in plain terms is this: Every 
Cause must have an Effect, and every Effect must have an 
equal or adequate Cause; and the two factors of the proposi- 
tion must correspond one to the other, i. e., the effect must be 
like the cause, and the cause must be equal to the effect. 

This law forms the basis of all human thinking; it is one of 
the groves of the human mind in which all thought-wheels run, 
when they run at all; it is a primary, a necessary, a universal 
truth; and by a necessary truth we mean a truth the contrary 
of which is unthinkable. But that no one may still stumble 
over these terms, cause and effect, we will explain them. 



5S2 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

further. By Cause we mean any power or force that is capa- 
ble of producing a result; and by Effect we mean simply the 
result produced. Thus, the sun is the cause of light and heat; 
and light and heat are the effect of this cause. And so indis- 
solubly associated are these two ideas that if you should say 
to a blind man there is a sun, he would reply at once, then 
there must be light and heat. But how does he know it 1 
Because his mind is incapable of thinking in any other way. 
It is a necessary law of his thought that he should at once pred- 
icate the existence of light and heat, when he is informed of 
the existence of the cause of these properties. If a locomo- 
tive runs at all, it must run npon the rails ; so if the mind 
works at all, it must work according to its laws, and the mental 
wheels must run in the grooves which God, the Creator, has 
scooped out for them in the nature and constitution of things. 

Again, let a* blind man walk forth into the air and feel the 
effects of light and heat upon his senses, and he knows in- 
stantly that there must be a cause for this effect, and that the 
cause must correspond to the effect, i. <?., be equal to it, and of 
the same kind. This kind of knowledge is so organic and in- 
evitable and necessary that whenever we can be assured through 
the testimony of the senses of the existence of either one of 
these two factors, the existence of the other follows necessarily* 
because the laws of thought compel it. There is no alterna- 
tive, and there can be no change without having a different 
mind, and a different world. Logic is a science, reason has its 
rules, and thought its necessary modifications; and every mind 
in its normal state recognizes and obeys these mental statutes. 
If it does not, we say that it is diseased or shattered, and in- 
stead of thinking sense, it thinks nonsense. 

^NTow, let us apply this law of thought to the determination 
of our questions: Is Christ a living King and Saviour, is 
the Bible true, is religion a reality? Or what are the grounds of 
certainty by which we may know, as well as we know any- 
thing, that all these questions can be answered in the affirma- 
tive 2 

By the testimony of our senses, we know that there exists 



SAFETY IN KKLIGIOUS LIFE. 583 

a very extensive organization called the Christian Church, em- 
bracing the whole body of Christian believers. We see it 
before us, we hear of its doings, we feel its influence. The 
existence of the church, therefore, is an effect or result which 
must have an adequately producing power, or an adequate 
cause. This cause cannot be human because the effect is not 
human, there is nothing human which is analogous to the 
church; it is unique, it stands apart from every other fact in 
the universe. Its very existence is in itself a marvel; it sur- 
vives all changes, it endures all trials and persecutions, it over- 
comes all opposition, it continually spreads and grows; and 
that, too, without any compulsion or bonds, aside from the 
voluntary love of its adherents; and this cannot be said of any 
other existing organization on earth. 

Moreover, this christian church counts and has counted 
among its followers a considerable share of the very best peo- 
ple of the world, living and dead; the ablest minds, the noblest 
hearts, the purest lives. The power which the church exerts 
upon society and upon government is something very salutary 
and very extensive; nothing can compare with it in this re- 
spect. And, in short, looking upon the church in its origin 
and career, in its organization and structure, in its history 
and work, the conclusion is inevitable that it is something 
superhuman or divine. And if it is a divine effect, it must 
have a divine cause. Or in other words, the existence of the 
Christian church proves the existence of Christ, the truth of 
the Bible, and the reality of religion. It is one ground of real 
certainty by which we may knoio these things as well as we 
know anything. 

The fact is, the existence of the Christian church cannot be 
accounted for satisfactorily upon any other hypothesis than 
that furnished by the Bible. If Christ is not a living God 
and Saviour, and the Bible is not true, and religion is not a 
reality, then you have before you the greatest anomaly in the 
world, the greatest wonder of time, the greatest miracle of 
history; yea, more than this, you have before you an astound- 
ing, gigantic effect without any adequate cause; which is an 



584 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

impossibility in itself, and an absurdity in thought. To be- 
lieve such a thing would at once be an evidence of insanity. 

How then can one know that these things are true? We an- 
swer just the same as we know that the Governor of any State 
lives, although we may never have seen him, or that the Presi- 
dent lives, or that the law of gravitation exists, or an} 7 other 
invisible power, or cause; know it b} r the visible effects which 
are produced. The existence of the Christian church is a 
real, solid fact, and cannot be set aside or rubbed out; and 
being a fact it must be properly and adequately accounted 
for. Every effect must have an adequate cause; institutions 
like the Christian church, do not spring into existence of 
themselves: they must have a Founder and a foundation; 
they embody within themselves substantial verities; they 
exist because there is a living power behind and within 
them. No human principle accounts for the existence of 
the Christian Church; no human facts would warrant its con- 
tinuance through a single generation; and yet it lives on 
through one generation after another, .growing stronger, reach- 
ing out wider, and becoming more powerful each year. The 
first evidence, therefore, by which I know that religious things 
are real and true, is the plain testimony of my senses, and this 
is just as much a valid ground of certainty in religion, as in 
law or business. This single principle alone makes faith in 
God and Christ and the Bible, a reasonable faith. 

A second ground of certainty in religious things is the clear 
testimony of history . . Christianity not only exists all around 
us to-day as an actual fact, but it has existed in substantially 
its present form for more than 1,800 years. There is no 
more doubt of this than there is of the ancient existence of 
the British Empire. It is a plain matter of history and we 
know it just as really, and in just the same way, as we know 
any historical fact. Weighed according to any standard there 
is stronger and clearer evidence of the historical existence of 
Jesus Christ and the Apostles, than there is of the historical 
existence of Julius Caesar and his famous generals, or of Alex- 
ander the Great and his famous wars. 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 585 

Inside the church an unbroken line of testimony to the ex- 
istence of Christianity goes straight back through IransBiis and 
Polycarp to the Apostle John. Outside the church, another 
line of testimony goes back through Tacitus, the younger 
Pliny and Josephus, to about the same point and date. 

And what is true of Christianity and Christ is equally true 
of the Bible. To a large extent the Christian's faith rests 
upon a book; a book radically unlike every other, and by com- 
mon consent superior to every other as a moral guide. Testi- 
monies to the historical existence of the Bible also go back 
uninterruptedly to within a very short period of the collection 
and formation of the ~New Testament Canon (A. D. 120), while 
the existence of the Old Testament goes back into the very 
dawn of all history. Any method of skeptical criticism 
which seeks to invalidate this historical testimony to the genu- 
ineness of the Bible, destroys at the same time the value of 
every historical book in existence, and makes any knowledge 
of the past impossible. For example: Archbishop Whately 
of England took up the principles and rules by which some 
modern critics were attempting to prove the Bible false, and 
by them also proved logically and conclusively that Napoleon 
Bonaparte never lived; that all records concerning him were 
legends and myths, and had no true, reliable, historical basis; 
which, of course, w r as a plain absurdity. 

In the British Museum there is to-day an original manu. 
script of a religious document written by Clement of Borne 
about the year 95, a few years after .the death of the Apostle 
John. This document purports to be an epistle to the Corin- 
thians somewhat after the manner of Paul's, written to heal 
some further divisions in that church which had arisen after 
Paul's death; and not only by the blessed and Christian 
spirit which it breathes, but by express and valuable testimony 
it establishes the historical existence of Christianity and the 
Bible at that early period. We mention this not because it 
stands alone in this respect, but simply as a sample of the un- 
doubted historical basis on which and by which w r e may know 
the certainty of what is revealed, and what to believe. 



586 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

How then can one know that the Bible is genuine and true? 
We answer, in just the same way as we know that any history 
is true; know it just as really and as certainly, and by the 
same kind of evidence. In every college in the land there 
are read and translated what are called the books of Livy and 
Herodotus, the first written in Latin, and the second in Greek. 
They purport to be the early histories of the empires of Greece 
and Rome. And their statements have been substantially 
accepted by all scholars as veritable and correct from the be- 
binning of learning until now. But the evidences for the gen- 
uineness of the Bible, as every scholar knows, are as ten to one 
when compared with either Livy or Plerodotus or Xenophom 
or in fact any of the so-called ancient classics. 

Besides this, it is a principle of laAV, and so acted upon in 
all legal tribunals (I quote now from two of the highest legal 
authorities, viz: "Greenleaf and Starkie on Evidence") that all 
documents apparently ancient, not bearing on their face the 
marks of forgery, and found in proper custody (mark this),. 
are held in law to be genuine until sufficient evidence is 
brought forward to the contrary. Now, where were these an- 
cient documents, the Gospels and Epistles, found? We answer 
they were found in the custody of the church; of those who 
believed in them and regarded them as sacred ; of those who 
had to defend them against the persecutions and attacks of 
enemies; of those who were willing to die giving testimonvto 
their purity and truth. Any motive for deception here? 
Not the slightest. 

And what characteristics do these ancient documents bear 
upon their face as to their own genuineness? Look at them 
closely, study them attentively; mark the simplicity and di- 
rectness of statement in them ; the calmness of tone, the pre_. 
cision and comprehensiveness of expression, even upon the 
most difficult questions; observe the almost measureless sep- 
aration of them from all other books and literary productions 
in all ages; look at their subject-matter; see how it rises to 
the heights and reaches down to the depths of humanity; how 
it measures all states and conditions of life; touches everv 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 58 7 

chord of sympathy and contains the spiritual biography of 
every human heart; suited to every class of society, king and 
beggar, philosopher and child, and reaching in its declarations 
not only through the limits of time, but forward into the 
boundless regions of eternity. Consider all this, and then ask 
if these documents are forgeries? Why, such a forgery would 
be a greater miracle than any recorded in the documents them- 
selves. This, then, is the second ground of certainty in relig- 
ious things, the clear testimony of history. 

Still another is the internal testimony of consciousness. 
And this undoubtedly is the kind of testimony referred to in 
Paul's declaration, " For I know whom I have believed, and 
am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have com- 
mitted to his hands." 

By this word consciousnesses mean thesouVs knowing in 
itself that a thing is true. Consciousness sustains the same 
relation to the soul, that the senses do to the body. It is the 
certainty of intellectual and moral conviction; or, speaking 
religiously, the certainty of faith. 

Is this kind of testimony good for anything? Will any man 
say that the firm convictions of so many millions of intelli- 
gent and earnest minds, respecting a subject of so much conse- 
quence as religion, have no weight as a matter of evidence? 
To believe or declare that such a vast number of rational and 
sober and clear-minded beings could all be deceived upon the 
questions whether Christ was a living Lord, the Bible true, 
and religion a reality; that this deception could last for eigh- 
teen centuries without any one finding it out, and not only 
last but continue to grow stronger and increase in extent as 
time rolled on, — to say this, is to utterly destroy the value of 
human testimony upon any and every subject under heaven. 

The fact that an organization lives right on amidst the most 
bitter conflicts within, and the most relentless persecutions 
without, and continues to increase steadily, is proof positive 
that such an organization not only embodies within itself sub- 
stantial facts and verities, but that it meets and supplies the 
heaven-born wants of the human soul. It is an incontrovert- 



-5S8 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

ible fact that a lie, a falsehood, an error, a sham, never per- 
petuates itself. This fact is established by human experience, 
observation and history. False things have no inherent, 
recuperative energy. As Bryant puts it: "Errror, when 
wounded, writhes in pain and dies even amidst its worship- 
ers." And this is not simply poetry, but it is fact, also, and 
is so recognized by all. 

The millions of souls who have constituted the member, 
ship of the Christian Church have not all been fools, neither 
were they all deranged; but they have simply declared what 
to them were the words of truth and soberness. And the fact 
that so many have thus declared these sentiments, and are still 
declaring them, is a strong presumptive proof that the senti- 
ments themselves are just and true. 

Presumptive proof ? Yea, more; positive proof. You have 
already been referred to one unvarying law, called the law of 
Cause and Effect. We point now to another, equally valid, 
relating to the value of human testimon} 7 . It is this: Han- 
kind universally cannot honestly believe a lie. If they could 
there would be no such thing as truth, for there would be 
nobody to determine what was truth. To suppose that uni- 
versal human intelligence can be outwitted and hoodwinked 
and deceived by any cunningly- devised fable, is to destroy the 
value of intelligence itself, and practically to blot it out of ex- 
istence forever. Where do we £0 to find out what is truth, 
but to concurrent human testimony? Why do we submit a 
case of life and death to the decision of twelve men? Because 
it is a fundamental dictate of reason and common sense that a 
collection of minds, all earnestly examining the same point, in 
a majority of cases, cannot be deceived. And if this is true 
of twelve men, what shall we say of hundreds and thousands 
and millions, running on through one age after another, and 
each taking up the subject for himself, and going over it 
afresh? Is it possible for them all to go astray ? If it is, then* 
farewell to any and all testimony respecting any subject, for 
it is not worth a straw. Farewell to all distinctions between 
right and wrong, truth and error; for no one can tell or de- 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 5S!> 

termine which is correct; farewell to all knowledge and science 
and human learning, for one man's opinion is as good as an- 
other; farewell to all courts of justice and legal decisions, for 
no one can be sure that they are right; farewell to all business 
and commercial intercourse, for no man's declaration can be 
relied upon. 

It is true that one man or a number of men are liable to be 
deceived, but not true that all men are. The case therefore 
stands thus: all men believe in the existence of a God; a uni- 
versal belief cannot be false; therefore, God exists. All men 
have some kind of religion; all men cannot be deceived; 
therefore, religion is a reality. 

These, then, are the three grounds of religious certainty, the 
testimony of the senses, the testimony of history, the testimony 
of consciousness; a three-fold cord, which is not easily broken. 
The first is a matter of plain, every-day observation, the sec- 
ond, a matter of reason and judgment, the third, a matter of 
inward conviction "and feeling. Can any stronger proofs be 
brought forward concerning any subject appealing to human 
credibility or asking human acceptance? 

No one is compelled to say that he rather thinks religion is 
true; that possibly Christ is a living Saviour; that perhaps 
the Bible is the book of God; but on the contrary all can say 
in the language of Job, Paul, David, Peter and John, " We 
know." Because all can know the truth of these things just 
as firmly and certainly as they know any other well-attested 
truth or fact; and by the same kind of evidence. Christianity 
is not a cunningly-devised fable, neither has it been kept hid- 
den in a corner; neither 

"Need we any wings 
To soar aloft to realms of higher things, 
But only feet which walk the paths of peace, 

Guided by Hini whose voice 
Greets every ear, and makes all hearts rejoice." 



590 



THE IMPERIAL HIGH WAY. 



CHAPTER IT. 
Repentance. 

■'Return, return thee to thine only rest, 

Lone pilgrim of the world ! 

Far erring from the fold, 
By the dark night and risen storms distressed, 
List, weary one, the Shepherd's anxious voice. 

Return, return, 4hy fair white fleece is soiled, 

And by sharp briers rent ; 

Thy little strength is spent, 
Yet He will pity thee, thou torn and spoiled." 



"Amid the shadows and the fears 
That overcloud this home of tears, 
Amid my poverty and sin, 
The tempest and the war within, 

I cast my soul on thee, 

Mighty to save e'en me, 

Jesus, thou Sod of God ! 

Drifting across a sunless sea, 
Cold, heavy mist encurtaining me ; 
Toiling along life's broken road, 
With snares around and foes abroad, 

I cast my soul on thee, 

Mighty to save e'en me, 

Jesus, thou Son of God! " 

T is a coincidence not to be overlooked that both John 
the herald and Christ the King began their public 
ministry by preaching the same subject in the same 
words; those words being: "Repent ye, for the kingdom of 
heaven is at hand." The subject of repentance then must be 
the keynote of thenew dispensation and a door opening into 




SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 591 

the kingdom of heaven itself. And whether we view it his- 
torically or experimentally, repentance is the first step towards 
a new and divine life; a life that God will own and bless here, 
and abundantly reward hereafter. 

Yery much of the popular religion of our day, addresses 
men as if by nature they were already fit for heaven and al- 
ready ripe for translation. But not so said Christ, not so says 
experience, observation, internal consciousness, good judg- 
ment, history; not so says everything to which we can appeal 
for enlightenment, confirmation, or proof. One of two things 
therefore must be true: either the Bible makes a great mis- 
take, or such a representation as the above is radically and 
vitally wrong. Is it not a plain matter of common sense (to 
go no higher) that if men are already fit for heaven, naturally, 
there is no need of being born again or created anew within; 
no need of any Scriptures, or means of grace; more than this, 
no need of a Saviour at all? Christ's work and life and death 
were all superfluous, a mere waste of time and effort, an ex- 
hibition of useless self-imposed hardship and suffering. God 
made a very foolish move when he sent his Son into the world 
to die that man might live, if man could live just as well 
without him, and die just as well without him, and be saved 
just as well without him; if by nature he is already fit and 
ready for each when it comes. Are we prepared to accept this 
last conclusion? Hardly; and yet we must accept it or else 
believe that both John and Christ came preaching repentance 
as the first step towards a new and higher life, because repent- 
ance first of all was necessary; because without this there 
could be no such thing as religion at all; without this, no pro- 
gress in holiness or purity of heart and life; without this, no 
room or chance for a seat at God's right hand. 

What do men do when they wish to irrigate and fertilize a 
barren piece of land? What do they do in Egypt along the 
banks of the Nile, where the land is naturally a desert? They 
cut out canals or channels leading from the river, and take 
away all natural obstacles so that the water may flow over the 
soil and deposit upon it its fertilizing sediment, thus creating 



592 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

a kind of new soil upon a naturally barren bottom. ]Now, 
spiritually, some hearts before God are like the barren desert; 
he sees no blessed fruitage there; they are destitute of holi- 
ness, destitute of moral purity in his sight. They need heav- 
enly irrigation; they need the water of life, the indwelling of 
the Holy Spirit, the influx of Christ's power to enable them 
to live a higher and better life. And before they can get all 
this, there must be cut out a channel in which the water can 
now from the river of God on high into and over their souls, 
and deposit there its spiritual sediment, thus creating a kind 
of new soil on the basis of the old, barren one. And the cut- 
ting out of this channel, and the clearing away of all the old 
sinful rubbish and natural obstacles, such as pride, obstinacy, 
love of sin, rocks of hardness and indifference, underbrush of 
sinful habits and practices, tangled thickets of deceit and dis- 
honesty and general wickedness — the clearing away of all this r 
and the digging: out of a direct source of communication with 
the river of God above — this is the work of repentance. 

Spiritually, all human hearts, whatever may be their nat- 
ural differences or natural qualities — and there is a vast 
diversity in personal natures, some being much more amiable 
than others, but yet, emphasizing the word, — all human 
hearts, whatever their natural state or condition, need and 
must have more spirituality, more religion in them than they 
possess naturally, before they can live a true Christian life 
here, or be saved at last. The Bible rings out its messages 
of warning to all mankind alike, saying, " Except ye repent* 
ye shall all likewise perish." "Unless your righteousness ex- 
ceed that of the Scribes and Pharisees, (which was merely for- 
mal,) ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom of heaven." 
The one thing insisted upon is the possession of a pure 
and holy character, the indwelling of a new and divine life, 
derived from Christ. 

And now, the amount of repentance and faith necessary to 
secure this, depends upon the quality of one's natural charac- 
ter. As already remarked, there are great differences in peo- 
ple religiously, as well as in every other way. Some hearts 




mil t 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 593 

» 

are like the desert, naturally barren and sterile, and need a 
new soil entirely before any religious fruit can grow. Some 
are like natural trees' that bear plenty of fruit of a poor qual- 
ity; these need grafting with a new and higher life. Some 
are like marshes and fens, foul and rank with noxious weeds 
and plants that need killing out or pulling up by the roots, 
before anything better can have room'to grow. Some are like 
rocks, utterly hard and insensible, and need to be blasted and 
broken up with great shocks of calamity, or accident, or suf- 
fering, before they begin to move or feel at all. Some are 
like wild vines that are frail, tender, clinging and loving, and 
these need to be taught and cultivated and strengthened by 
the power of faith, and the help which Christ alone can give. 
Some are like the timid, retiring wild-flower in the forest that 
needs to be brought out into the sunlight of God's reconciled 
countenance* and be made to grow with new strength and 
beauty. Some are like gardens that bring forth fruits, flowers 
and weeds in about equal proportion; these need cleaning and 
ploughing and replanting. Some are knarled and twisted 
like a bush, almost beyond the power of redemption by any 
ordinary means. Some are already putrid with lust, sin, and 
crime, like .decayed wood or herbage. And others are natur- 
ally lovely and amiable, and inclined towards the good and 
lovely, just as rootlets strike out towards water by an inherent 
instinct; who are what may be called religiously inclined, but 
still not spiritual, not holy according to the Scriptures and the 
requirements of Christ, not Christians in the true sense of 
the word. . '.,"*; 

But all alike, whatever their natural variation's Or excellen- 
ces, need to be converted before they can be saved. With' 
some the process of conversion would be longer and more 
difficult than with others, but still all alike must be born 
again before they dan enter the kingdom of heaven. " "There 
is none that doeth good," i. e. absolutely and perfectly good 
in the divine sense of the word, "no, not one." For all 
alike have gone astray upon some points,, and in some respects 5 
however right they rn.ay.be in. others,; and hence the universal 

38 



594 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

necessity of repentance as the first step towards a new and 
higlier and purer life. 

This conclusion is further enforced by the fact that moral 
and spiritual qualities are not transmissible like almost every 
other quality of mind and nature. If a man develops his 
physical strength and vigor, and toughens his constitution and 
native hardihood, and makes his stock and blood good and 
healthy, the law is that unless some corrupting influence come 
in to vitiate the blood, his children will naturally inherit some- 
what of the parental character in this respect. In this sense, 
therefore, the results of our life are transmissible to another, the 
child reaping the rewards and benefits of the father's doings. 
The same is true to a limited extent of mental characteristics 
and also of acquired mechanical skill. In some parts of Eu- 
rope where communities are separated from each other and all 
devoted to some particular branch of handiwork, living by 
them selves, and following the same trade for generations, 
the result is that the children of these parents not only " take" 
to that kind of work natural ]y, as ducks to the water, but ex- 
hibit a natural aptitude for the work; thus showing that the 
skill and knowledge acquired by the parents are in a measure 
transmitted to the children. But while this law holds good 
mentally and socially and physically, it utterly fails morally. 
However good and holy or religious the parents may be in 
character and life, every child is born a sinner. Nothing re- 
ligious is transmitted. It is one of the sad consequences of 
the fall, but it is real. This matter of religion becomes thus 
intensely and exclusively, a personal matter; every. soul has 
to go over the ground by itself and alone, deriving very little 
help from others. The piety of parents does not avail for the 
children; everyone must repent and believe for himself or 
herself, or be lost. 

It is thus seen that religion is not simply a quality of na- 
ture as some would have us believe. It is not something in- 
hering in the disposition and character, needing only to be 
developed and brought out by Christian nurture and culture. 
It is rather a new creation in the .soul wrought there by the 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 595 

-combined power of God's truth and Spirit. It is a power that 
comes into the soul from Christ, not a power evolved from the 
soul itself, by proper appliances. This is a great and impor- 
tant distinction. 

_N r or is this all. While holiness is not transmissible, sin is 
This law which works so uniformly and beneficently in all 
other departments of life, has been completely perverted and 
reversed in relation to morals. While the parents cannot 
Tiouse up holiness for their children, they can and do accumu 
late the terrific consequences of transgression and wickedness 
Evil tendencies and proclivities are inherited far more readily 
and surely than good ones. AVe each bear about with us not 
only our personal sins, but also a greater or less load of sin 
which comes down to us from the past. Hence repentance is 
■doubly necessary. We must be saved from the consequences 
and power of our own sins, and also saved from the power of 
evil inherited. 

It is no wonder, then, that both John and Christ began their 
public ministry by preaching the same subject, in the same 
words; both of them.saying to all around, "Repent, repent, 
for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." Both of them saw 
that this was the first step to be taken, and until this had been 
taken no further steps were possible. 

But what is repentance in itself, what is its fundamental and 
underlying idea? The original word means literally an after- 
thought, or a change of mind, a change of view. Now to 
think after, or take a second thought, is often to think differ, 
•ently, and to think more justly and truly; hence, to repent of 
the first thought. The idea pre-supposes that the mind has 
received some new and better light with regard to life and its 
duties, and its relations to God and man; which new light 
within, makes a change inevitable, a change of thought and 
purpose and intention. 

And this without doubt is the beginning of repentance. 
The soul is convicted of sin by the combined power of God's 
truth and spirit. It sees now that its former views of life 
were wrong, and of course that its actions have all been 



596 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

wrong. This afterthought or change of mind makes one not 
only resolve to turn over a new leaf in the book of life, but 
also to strive to get rid of the disastrous consequences of the 
old manner of life. It thus looks forward, backward, and up- 
ward, at the same time. It looks backward at its old course 
of sinful living, sees its enormity and wickedness, and is led 
to abhor it and turn from it, and to ask God to forgive it. It 
looks up to an outraged and innocent Judge, and is led to im- 
plore pardon and peace. It looks forward to the remainder of 
life, and also forward to the great day of God when its actions- 
are to be weighed and judged, and calls upon God for strength 
to live a new, a holy, and an upright life. 

The primary elements of repentance then are three. . First, 
a change of mind and intention caused by new and better 
light or knowledge which enables the soul to see itself and 
God and the world in higher and truer aspects. Secondly, a 
change of conduct corresponding to this change of mind. As 
thought precedes action naturally, and action follows correct 
thought inevitably, so these two elements will be in harmoni- 
ous proportion, necessarily. And thirdly, this change of 
thought and conduct will be accompanied by sorrow for the 
past, and strong crying to God for help to reform. The ab- 
sence of either of these three ingredients vitiates the whole 
work. If a ship have three leaks and two be stopped, the 
third will surely sink the ship. So repentance that is not fol- 
lowed by a change of conduct is not worth anything; neither 
is a change of conduct that is not produced by a complete and 
radical change of mind of any value. This change of mind 
is so fundamental in true repentance that in the Scriptures it 
is likened to a new creation, a new birth; to old things passing 
away and all things becoming new. The soul sees itself and 
the world around differently, the Bible is a new book, the 
Church becomes more precious, and God holds a direct and 
immediate connection with all. Life instead of being an end 
in itself, is but a preparatory stage of existence for the life 
which is to come. 

Of course, the strength and degree of this change and these 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 597 

new views will vary with different minds, but there can be no 
genuine, biblical repentance in which no change appears. 
Neither is that repentance genuine which does not include 
sorrow for sin, and strong crying to God for mercy. There 
are a great many who will say, "I wish I had done differently; 
I might have done better. I am sorry I did not." But they 
do not follow this confession by asking God to forgive- them. 
Now repentance is designed to lead to this point, precisely, and 
if it does not lead there, then no good results come therefrom. 
Repentance without amendment is like pumping water from 
a ship and not stopping the leaks. We all have afterthoughts 
and second thoughts which are better than the first ones; we 
all naturally gain a little new light by experience, day by day. 
But this is very different from the light imparted by God's 
truth and spirit which leads to conviction of sin, and broken- 
heartedness and deep contrition before him, and makes the 
soul cry out like blind Bartimeus, "O Lord, have mercy on 
me, have mercy oh me." 

There is very little danger of one's being too much in earn- 
est about repentance, or too thorough in reform. Most souls fail 
in religious life because they are not earnest and thorough 
enough. "He that humbleth himself shall be exalted." 
Genuine humility before God, and broken-heartedness and 
contrition of soul constitute the only soil out of which the 
plant of repentance will grow. Says the sainted Rutherford, " I 
pray you dig deep. Christ's palace-work and his new dwel- 
ling laid upon hell felt and feared, is most firm; and heaven 
grounded and laid upon such a fear, is sure work which will 
mot wash away with wintry storms." 

Does any one ask, how shall I secure this frame of mind? 
We answer, by asking God in prayer to show you all things in 
their true light and true relations. Perhaps no other direc- 
tion is necessary than this one, simply pray for light and 
knowledge; "ask and ye shall receive; seek and ye shall find, 
knock and it shall be opened to you." Not simply ask once, 
but continually until you feel that God has heard and answered 
your cries and entreaties. 



598 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

And what are the consequences or results of such repent- 
ance? It brings pardon or forgiveness of sins. In fact, thio- 
ls the object of it. A long, dark catalogue of past trans- 
gressions must be washed away by the blood of the atonement,, 
else they will rise up in the judgment and confront us like so 
many spectres and ghosts. We must feel, before we are saved,, 
that God for Christ's sake (not for ours) has said to us, "Tny 
sins which are many are all forgiven; go in peace and sin no 
more." And* this is a distinct and peculiar consciousness 
which the soul cannot feel until it has actually received the 
pardon. When Bunyan's Pilgrim started from the city of 
Destruction to seek the heavenly land, he felt weighed down 
by a great burden of guilt which he carried along with him 
and which he could not get rid of by his own efforts. And so 
he is pictured as carrying a great burden on his back. But 
by and by he came to the hill Difficulty, at the top of which 
stood the Cross. He began slowly to ascend. Foes were with- 
out and fears within. He was downcast and despondent. 
The air all about him was full of evil spirits whispering in 
his ear or tormenting him with doubts. But still he pressed 
on. At length, after many groanings and stragglings, he 
reached the top and threw himself down exhausted at the foot 
of the cross. At that moment his burden of sin and guilt 
was loosened, and rolled away down the hill, and the poor pil- 
grim never saw it any more. 

Now, this is a picture or allegory of what takes place in the- 
soul as one of the consequences or results of repentance. Re- 
pentance is seeking forgiveness at the foot of the cross, and 
pardon is the sense of release within. It may not be as vivid 
as this in every case, very likely it will not be; but something 
analogous to it, it must be. All must and will feel that God 
has pardoned the past, through the atonement provided by 
his son. 

Furthermore, repentance brings a sense of peace to the soul; 
peace of conscience, pea'ce of mind. Being created in God's 
image, a part of that image consists in the power of conscience 
to approve or condemn. God has not only written out his- 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 599 

« 

law and placed it before us, but lie has also written it out 
within us, and we carry it about with us wherever we go. 
The voice of conscience within, as far as it goes, is the same 
as the voice of God without and above. And this conscience, 
until it becomes dead and seared and wholly inoperative within, 
tells us, like a holy and upright judge, when we do right and 
when we do wrong. It says with an authority that cannot be 
questioned, "Thou shalt, and thou shalt not." And whenever 
we disobey its mandates then it reproves and stings and pun- 
ishes. And of all the torments which one can feel, nothing 
is so fearful to bear as the stings of an angry conscience. It 
is the next thing to an angry God. It is likened in the Scrip- 
tures to the knawings of a worm that never dies, and the tor- 
ment of a fire that is never quenched. 

But proper repentance brings us a peace of conscience; not 
a deadness, but a sense of rest and approval. When we lie down 
at night instead of going to sleep with an aching pain of heart? 
the soul feels that -its peace is made with God, and that if it 
dies before the morning light shall dawn, God will receive it 
to a better home above. When we go out or come in, instead 
of feeling a constant dread of disaster, there is a conscious- 
ness that God is over all, and will do nothing amiss. And 
at last, repentance toward God and faith in our Lord Jesus 
Christ will wash and cleanse the soul from every stain here, 
and prepare it for that everlasting fullness of rest and joy 
found only at God's right hand above. As says a noted 
preacher: "When a man undertakes to repent towards his 
fellow-men, it is like repenting straight up a precipice; when 
he repents toward law, it is like repenting into a crocodile's 
jaws; when he repents toward public sentiment, it is throwing 
himself into a thicket of brambles and thorns; but when he 
repents toward God, he repents toward all love and delicacy. 
God receives the soul as the sea a bather, and returns it again 
purer, whiter and happier than he took it." 



COO THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



CHAPTER Y. 
Sin and Pardon. 

"Alas! for tlie wildely wandering heart 
And its changing idol guests ! 

It has roamed away to the world's far ends 
At the vagrant wind's behests. 

It loves on a worthless, treacherous world 
To bestow its high desires ; 

And the lamp which it ought to be lighting in heaven, 
It kindles at idol fires. 

Full seldom it turns to its guiding charts- 
Alas! for the wandering heart." 



"I need thee mighty Saviour! 

For I am full of sin ; 
My soul is dark and guilty, 

My heart is dead within ; 
I need a cleansing fountain 

Where I can always flee — 
The blood of Christ most precious, 

The sinner's perfect plea." 



Cast off the sins thy holy beauty veiling, 

Spirit divine ! 
Vain against thee the hosts of hell assailing, 

Christ's strength is thine ! 
Drink from His side the cup of life immortal, 
And love shall lead the path to heaven's portal. 

Savonarola. 

"Thou knowest all— yet whither shall I go 
To leave my sins and with them leave my woe, 
Except to Thee who only help canst bring, 
And bid me live thy pardoning love to sing? 




SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 601 

I lay my head upon thy infinite heart, 
I hide beneath the shelter of thy wing, 
Pursued and tempted, helpless, I must cling 
To thee, my Saviour; hid me not depart." 

H AT is sin? The Bible answers,- sin is a transgression 
of the Law. What is crime? The statute-book an- 
swers in the same words, crime is a transgression of 
the law. What then is the difference between sin and crime? 
In essence, in spirit, none at all. Sin is crime, and crime is 
-sin. Crime is a word usually applied to civil offences, and sin 
to moral offences, but in both cases the moving principle is 
the same. One is an offence against man, the other against 
God, but both are transgressions of law which makes the 
transgressor guilty, and subjects him to penalty and punish- 
ment according to the nature of the offence. Consequently, 
every man who has ever broken one of God's laws, is a crim- 
inal in God's sight. He is looked upon as such, treated as 
such, and unless pardoned through Christ, will and must be 
punished as such at the last. 

Outside of the Bible, sin is very generally regarded as sim- 
ply a weakness, a fault, a failing, or an infirmity; something 
that all men are exposed to, and which therefore ought to be 
passed over lightly. You say to any man that he is a sinner, 
and he will readily admit the fact, sometimes with a smile 
even, and by looks and actions, if not by words, reply: " That 
is nothing strange or unusual. There is nothing remarkable 
or serious about that." 

Yes there is something very serious about that. Is it a 
light thing to be a criminal in the eye of the civil law? To 
go about feeling that you are unsafe anywhere; that you are 
liable to be arrested any moment, and made to suffer the pen- 
alty of your crime? Undoubtedly, the most unhappy being 
■on earth is a guilty criminal. By his transgression of the law, 
he has broken off his friendly relations with everything around 
or within him. He has broken off friendly relations with 
himself; he has disturbed the peace of his own mind and con- 
science and heart, and all the powers of his being rise up to 



602 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

condemn him. He is out of friendly relations with society 
and with the State in which he lives. Yea, more, the very 
elements seem to combine against him; he is afraid of the- 
whistling wind; he trembles at the rustling of a leaf. He is- 
afraid to see his own neighbors; afraid of death; afraid of man, 
afraid of God. And why? Because he is a criminal; he has 
transgressed the law. 

Now, which is greater, human law or divine law, the law of 
the State or the law of Heaven? Which is most binding and 
obligatory, the mandates of men or the mandates of God I 
All laws are binding and powerful to the degree that they are 
inherently just and right. A bad human law is sometimes 
more honored in the breach than in the observance, but when 
a law appeals to every sentiment of right and righteousness- 
within the breast, then the law enforces itself, and all men 
unite in saying it must and shall be honored and obeyed. 
But what human law can be compared in the matter of just- 
ness, holiness and rightness with the holy and perfect law of 
God? Therefore, if human laws are binding and powerful be^ 
cause they are good, the laws of God are indeed a hundred 
times more so. 

Again, a law is powerful and binding in proportion to the 
weight of authority that stands behind it. Thus, the laws of 
a state or a nation are felt and feared more than those of a 
single society or district, and a state criminal is regarded as 
tinged with a deeper dye of guilt than the mere offender 
against some purely local enactment. Then what solemnity 
and power there is in a trial before the Supreme Court of the 
nation, where the whole national power sits enthroned in state,, 
and stands ready to descend in a crushing blow upon the life^ 
or person, or property of the offender. But what human court 
can compare for a moment with the court of the Supreme 
Ruler above, who is the author of our lives and the maker of 
the world? — that court which sits in eternal session around 
the great white throne, where the books are ever opened, and 
the officers of justice stand ever ready to discharge their duty?' 

Yerily, then, if it is a terrible thing to be a criminal in the 



SAFETY IJST RELIGIOUS LIFE. 60S- 

eyes of men, how much more terrible to stand condemned as a. 
sinner before God? All earthly penalties are not to he named 
beside the penalties of moral law. As Christ said, " Fear not 
those who can kill the body, and after that have no more that 
they can do, but I will forewarn you whom ye should fear. 
Fear him who hath power to cast both soul and body into- 
hell; yea, I say unto you, fear him." 

Law, under all circumstances, is something not to be trifled 
with; is something that cannot be broken with impunity. 
Properly defined, law is a rule of action, prescribed by the su- 
preme power of a state or nation, for the government of its 
subjects; a rule to which all rational beings are bound to yield 
obedience or be exposed to punishment. This is human law, 
applying only to conduct or external life. But what is Divine- 
Law? It is not onty a rule of action relating to conduct, but 
also a rule of action relating to thought, motives and feelings. 
While human law can only reach the outside, the divine law 
takes hold of the Heart, as well as the life; regulates both the 
internal and external. Consequently, it is far easier to trans- 
gress divine law than human, because we sin in thought and 
feeling much more frequently than in deed, and the results are 
far more disastrous. This divine law was summed up by the- 
Great Lawgiver himself in these two commandments: "Thou 
shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart; and thy 
neighbor as thyself." All other moral statutes, he said, grew 
out of these two; and he that offended in one point was guilty 
of all. 

By referring back for a moment to the definition first given r 
it will be noticed that Law is an enactment by the supreme- 
power in every case; consequently it is the last and final ut- 
terance of that power, and" from it there can be no appeal 
We cannot go behind the law power to something stronger 
and higher, if we can behind the statute itself. While this is- 
true with civil enactments, it is pre-eminently true of thelaws- 
of God. They are the embodiment of his own nature, and 
in them are found the eternal principles which govern his own 
action ; consequently there is nothing behind or beyond God's- 



€01- THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

power as embodied in his holy law. It is his last and final 
utterance upon the subjects contained therein. There is no 
appeal from them, no repeal of them. Even God himself 
could not change his own law, without changing his own na- 
ture and being; for his law is simply a reflex of that nature 
and being. 

It follows now that if God's laws .are broken there is no es- 
cape for the transgressor. Man cannot change the law, neither 
can God without proper satisfaction, and when once broken, 
penalty and punishment must follow. The great wheels of 
Justice and Providence, impelled by the fore 3 that made and 
upholds the universe, go rolling on and over all those who 
willfully place themselves in their track, and there is nothing 
that can stop them but the satisfied holiness of Him who made 
them. 

But is not God's law set aside by the atonement of Christ? 
!Not in the slightest degree. When Christ took man's place 
before the Law, God treated him just as he will treat all sin- 
ners if they expose themselves to the fury of his vengeance. 
If the Law could have been set aside, or passed over, is it to 
be supposed Christ would have suffered as he did on the cross? 
ISTot at all; there would have been no need of such suffering. 
Of himself he did nothing amiss; he was sinless in character, 
lie led an entirely sinless life; but he suffered on the cross and 
in the garden the penalty and punishment due to your sins 
and mine, reader. See him in that Garden! See him on the 
Cross! Behold the blackened sky, the rending rocks, the open- 
ing ground! Hark! hear the sufferer moan in the darkness. 
Hear him cry out in an anguish of soul that can never be 
known by us, " My God, ray God, why hast thou forsaken 
me? " What does all this mean? What is it for? Christ is 
■enduring the penalty of God's broken law. There could be 
no alleviation, no diminution of rigor in treatment, even 
though the victim was God's own Son. Having assumed 
man's obligations, he must pay the last farthing of the debt. 
And he did. We repeat it, therefore, no power can change, 
or repeal, or set aside moral law. Once broken, death must 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 605 

follow, unless help is obtained from Him who died that man 
might live. 

But the Bible speaks of being justified or pardoned by faith. 
How is this brought about '4 To justify is a legal term, mean- 
ing to clear or absolve from guilt. It calls to mind a prisoner 
at the bar. He has broken the law of the land, and is ar- 
raigned for trial, found guilty, and sentenced to death. He is- 
a young man. His father steps up and offers to die in his 
stead; the government accepts the transfer, and the prisoner 
is released. The law cannot harm him now, for he is taken 
out of its grasp. So in religious substitution. By acts of sinful 
nature all men are prisoners at God's bar of justice, and under 
sentence of eternal death. But Christ in infinite love volun- 
teers to take man's place, and the government of Heaven ac- 
cepts the transfer. The sufferings and death of Christ are then 
declared to be an equivalent for the death of the whole world;, 
and hence all those who believe in Jesus are released from the 
law's penalties as far as they relate to sins that are past. 
They are thereupon declared guiltless and stand justified be- 
fore the law and before God. 

Here, then, we see the nature of gospel pardon. It is far 
better than any earthly release can be. For example: a father 
might take his son's place in enduring the punishment allotted 
him, but he could not cleanse the son's heart from guilt. The 
son having actually committed a crime, has stained his soul 
with guilt as well as his name and character. The father 
might release him from the court and the prison and the scaf- 
fold, but as the son went out again into the world, he would 
go as a guilty man still. Before he could be perfectly free or 
pure, the crimson stains of sin and crime must be washed from 
his heart, as well as from his public name and record. And 
this no earthly power could do. 

But when sinners are saved, and pardoned before God by 
faith in Christ, not only are they released from the hold of the 
law, not only declared guiltless and so released from eternal 
death and banishment, but at the same time they are made 
pure in heart. Cleansed outwardly and cleansed inwardly; 



606 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

justified legally and made- white and holy actually. What a 
great salvation in this! The Cross of Jesus satisfies God, and 
also changes the heart of man. Here is the two-fold action of 
redemption, one part relating to the law and one to the soul. 

The guilty son referred to in the illustration, when he saw 
himself free and pardoned, would doubtless feel a momentary 
sense of peace and joy within, but if he was actually guilty? 
<the old wound of remorse would soon re-open. The remem- 
brance of his crime, the actual presence of guilt in his soul 
would be a constant source of torment to him, even if released 
from punishment and death. But in the case of the Christian 
believer who is justified before the law, and so released from 
death, there goes along with it an actual change of heart ; so 
that his peace is not momentary, but constant and abiding. 
As the Scriptures declare, it is like a river, broad, deep, and full, 
.never drying up, never flowing backward. 

Again, the son would also have his life embittered con- 
stantly by the thought that although he had escaped destruc- 
tion himself, yet he had forever put out the life of his father. 
But in the Christian plan of salvation, the substitute not only 
dies, but rises again and ever liveth at God's right hand; so 
•that the sorrow for having caused Christ's death is speedily 
turned into rejoicing by reflecting that the Saviour burst the 
bonds of death after paying the penalty, and ascended up on 
high where he now waits to bless and receive his own. 

Nothing could be more complete, or perfect than such a 
pardon. By the sufferings and death of Christ in man's be- 
half, the believer's past sins are expunged from the books of 
life above, and at the same time washed away within, leaving 
him pure, clean and guiltless, both legally and actually. Of 
course, he can go on and rush into sin again, and so become 
stained anew, but. with regard to the past, God says, " As far 
as the East is from the "West so far have I removed thy trans- 
gressions from thee." And again, "Though your sins be as 
scarlet they shall be made as white as wool; though red like 
crimson, they shall be as snow." 

What is the price or condition of this pardon? Simply 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. GOT 

faith in the work of the Lord Jesus Christ. But this faith must 
be a true, inward, saving faith. The justification is a gospel 
justification, and it can only be enjoyed by a gospel faith on 
the part of the recipient. And what is this? It is a faith of 
the heart. " With the heart man believeth unto righteous- 
ness." Ordinary faith is nothing more than a mere mental 
apprehension, an assent or nod of the mind; it can be held 
without affecting the heart or life at all. It is held by men in 
general, one way and another; by the business-man toward his 
•debtors, where it is called commercial faith. It is held by the 
scholar towards the statements he finds in books, and this is 
mere intellectual faith. It is held by the world in general 
towards the Bible and its contents, and this is simply histori- 
cal faith. But the faith here mentioned which justifies and 
releases the soul from sin, is something more than all these," 
although it includes all these. It is a faith of the heart, which 
works by love. Its chief and distinguishing characteristic is, 
that it leads to a complete surrender of the will and mind to 
the control of another. Before any soul savingly believes on 
Christ, it first surrenders all to him, gives all up for him, 
loves him, and obeys him, and then it has gospel faith. This 
is believing with the heart. Henceforth the soul is not its 
own, but belongs to Christ. 

To illustrate: A man traveling comes to the bank of a wide, 
perilous stream. He must cross it in order to gain the opposite 
shore where his treasure lies. The other shore is hidden by 
a veil of mist. He looks forward and can see only a few feet 
from where he stands. The sky is threatening overhead, and 
there strikes on his ear the roar of the waters in front. At 
the shore he sees a man with a small boat — only large enough 
in fact for two- — one and the pilot. The traveler begins to 
question. " Can you take me across the river safely? V I can. 
" Do yon warrant the passage? " I do. " How long have you 
been here?" Yery many years — a long, long time. " Have 
you carried many across?" Yes, there is a large city full 
whom you will meet on the other side. " Is there any other 
way of getting across? " No safe way. Farther up the stream 



608 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

is the remnant of an old bridge which promises well at the 
start, but it does not reach to the opposite bank; and al- 
though thousands upon thousands have tried it, not one 
among them all ever gained the other shore in safety. Very 
many come along here every day and inquire for the bridge 
and go forward; but, as I said before, the bridge is old and- 
full of rottenness and pitfalls, and the lifeless corpses of these 
travelers come floating past every day. I see them every time' 
I cross. " But do you not warn them of the danger?" Con- 
stantly, but they take no heed of what I say; they suppose I 
want them to patronize me. " What is your price for cross- 
ing?" Nothing at all; the government of the city on the 
other side furnishes the passage free to all who desire it. 
"But is not your boat small?" Yes, and purposely so; it 
was only intended for one at a time besides myself. The way 
across the stream is straight and narrow, and those who go 
must leave behind all their goods and companions for the time 
being, and entrust themselves, soul and body, with all their 
interests for time and eternity, entirely into my hands. They 
must obey me perfectly while crossing. In short, I take the 
whole charge of them, and they commit themselves wholly to 
my guidance. "Must I lose my goods and companions for 
ever ? " Your goods you will not need, and your companions 
can follow, one by one, if they will. And now, have you faith 
in what I say? If so, step in. 

The traveler hesitates, looks forward and backward, and on 
either side, and then slowly repeats to himself,- " I can but- 
perish if I go, I am resolved to try. For if I stay behind, / 
know I shall forever die." And so, with fear and trembling 1 
he steps down into the boat, commits himself entirely to his 
Pilot, and is landed safely upon the farther shore. Now, this 
Pilot is Christ, the river is the river of life, the city is the 
New Jerusalem, and committing ourselves wholly to the boat, 
leaving goods and companions behind for the time being, is 
gospel or saving faith; is believing with the heart unto right- 
eousness. This faith is an act of the whole being; the act of 
self-surrender. 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 609 

As faith without works is dead, being alone, so saving faith is 
■invariably preceded by repentance, accompanied with confes- 
sion, and followed by obedient action; and this distinguishes 
it forever from all kinds of common or general faith. If 
Christ frees us, he is to have control of us from that time 
forward and forever. We are no longer our own, but his; soul, 
body and all. . 

A word more in regard to the results of this pardon of sin. 
Being justified by faith, we have peace with God. This peace 
is a permanent state, rather than a transient feeling, although 
it includes both. When the act of faith is accomplished, and 
the sentence of justification pronounced, this changes the at- 
titude and relationship between God and our souls immedi- 
ately, inasmuch as pardon is instantaneous in its effects. One 
hour we are rebels against God's government, the next, friends 
and peaceful subjects. One hour we are exposed to death and 
wrath, the next, free ; pardoned, -and happy. One hour, liable 
to feel the penalty of a broken law, the next, released from its 
grasp forever, unless we voluntarily put ourselves back again. 
One hour, in the book of -life above. there is a long, dark cata- 
logue of sins charged against us, the next, the page is expunged 
and not a single blot or line remains. One hour, the soul is 
stained with crimson guilt, the next, the ruling power of sin 
is broken up, and the gradual process of whitening and cleans- 
ing is begun. One hour we stand out against God, defiant 
and stout-hearted, the next we are made humble and submis- 
sive. One hour, we are unpardoned sinners, the next, God's 
children and heirs with Christ. One hour we are lost, the 
next, saved. So great is this transformation wrought by justi- 
fication through faith in Christ! We enter into a state of peace 
with God after a sinful war; peace within and peace above; 
peace of conscience and of mind; peace, springing from for- 
giveness, and leading on to purity and holiness. 

Is it any wonder that God is angry with those who despise 
and reject such a blessing ? The wonder is that his wrath does 
not burn against such like an oven, and consume them utterly. 

39 



610 



THE IMPEEIAX HIGHWAY. 



And this it will do at the last. We must take either the law 
or the gospel and then carry it with us to the other world. 
Which will we have ? Before we can be saved, we must be 
justified by faith and feel this peace with God. Have we all 
exercised saving faith in Christ? Are we ready to do it? Will 
we begin at once — to-day — now? 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 611 

CHAPTER VI. 

The Nature and Power of Faith. 

"Nature wept when thou wert gone, but Faith 
Can pierce beyond the gloom of death, 
And in yon world so fair and bright 
Beholds thee in refulgent light. 

Nature sees the body dead- 
Faith beholds the spirit fled ; 

Nature stops at Jordan's tide, 

Faith beholds the other side ; 

Nature mourns a cruel blow, 

Faith assures it is not so ; 

Nature tells a dismal story, 

Faith has visions full of glory ; 

Nature views death's change with sadness, 

Faith contemplates it with gladness ; 

Nature writhes and hates the rod — 

Faith looks up and blesses God." 



"The child leans on its parent's breast, 
Leaves there its cares and is at rest ; 
The bird sits singing by its nest, 

And tells aloud 
His trust in Gods and so is blest 
'Neath every cloud. 

The heart that trusts forever sings, 
And feels as light as it had wings ; 
A well of peace within it springs ; 

Come good or ill, 
Whate'er to-day or morrow brings 

It is His will." 



fRJ* 




HE Bible declares, " Without faith, it is impossible to 
please God." What a sweeping, absolute assertion! 
'Good works, zeal, energy, benevolence, uprightness of 
life, sweetness of disposition, kindness, faithfulness, steadi- 
ness, in short, everything within man is incomplete in God's 
sight until it springs from faith in the soul. 



612 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

There are three processes by which we arrive at knowledge 
or come to conclusions. The first is by the testimony or evi- 
dence of the senses, which we call sight. Take up a book and 
both eye and finger tell the soul within, that a material object 
is before it. It possesses ail the known properties of matter 
— hardness or density, extension or size, form, impenetrability 
etc. — and if asked how we would know there was a book in 
the hand, we should at once confidently reply, because we can 
both see and feel it. This is one process of gaining knowl- 
edge, the most simple and obvious one of all, as w r ell as the 
one most commonly and generally used. 

The second process is through mental exercise or logical de- 
deduction which we call reason. This takes us into the region 
of the intangible and includes all that knowledge which comes 
to us from thought and study and reflection. By this kind of 
evidence we become convinced of the truths of science and 
philosophy such as, that the moon reflects the light of the sun, 
instead of its own light. This is a matter that we cannot de- 
termine by the "first process nor can we know it through the tes- 
timony of the senses; but we know it from argument, analogy 
and experiment. It is a matter that we reason out, and so 
arrive at certainty. We observe all the facts, put them together, 
and then draw a conclusion, and say we know. And this pro- 
cess is just as legitimate, regular and valid as the first. 

The third process is through the operation of the faith- 
faculty of the soul by which we take hold of the unseen world 
around and above and become convinced of the reality of the 
invisible. These three processes are like three successive 
steps in the scale of knowledge-getting; each higher than the 
last and all culminating in faith. The first deals with matter 
exclusively; the second with mind, science, philosophy and art; 
the third with the invisible and the unseen — w T ith God, relig- 
ion, and the soul. And each of these three is just as essential 
to complete life and action as the other two; each has its own 
ordained sphere of activity which the others cannot supply 
nor invade. Accordingly faith supplies to us that which 
takes the place of actual demonstration; and when a man has 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 613 

true faith, he just as really believes a thing as though he saw- 
it with his own eye, or reasoned it out with his own mind. 

It will thus be seen that faith often transcends both sight 
and reason, and sometimes contradicts them. As an opponent 
of sight, it very closely resembles the action of its twin-sister, 
hope; for "hope that is seen is not hope, for what a man seeth, 
why doth he yet hope for?" Hope, properly, is the mingled 
expectation and desire of future good, while faith is stronger 
and goes deeper; being an inward conviction and assurance of 
the same good. But as the complement of sight, faith be- 
gins where sight leaves off, and carries the soul farther on- 
ward or upward. Again, faith and sight may, and often do 
travel together, although they always reach a point, sooner or 
later, when sight, becoming dimmed and fearful, retires, and 
then Faith has the field all to herself and shows her full 
strength and power and glory. Perhaps w r e cannot better set 
forth the comparative merit .and office-work of these two pow- 
ers, than by using an allegory. 

A human soul looked out of its windows one day, and after 
gazing long and steadily above, exclaimed in impatient dis- 
quietude, "I am not satisfied with my present surroundings 
and portion; there must be some higher good attainable some- 
where, and I am determined to seek it. The earth is good, 
but I sicken of its food alone; I feel that I want something 
richer and purer and nobler." No sooner had she ceased 
speaking, than two of her attendants came to her side, saying, 
" We will show you an abundance of treasures better than 
are found in any material mines; and if you will but follow 
us, we will lead you where those w T ants you speak of can be 
fully met." Most gladly will I go, the soul replied, and 
thereupon the three set out to find the Land of Fruition. 
Their route lay through, the flowery fields and kingdoms of 
science, philosophy, art, and song, until they finally reached 
the utmost limits of human thought. At each stage of pro- 
gress made, the soul, after receiving and enjoying all that her 
guides brought her from the different fields, made ever the 
same sad plaint: " The good you promised has not yet come 



614: THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

to me and my great want is yet unmet; is there nothing 
beyond?" 

Her guides began to be in despair; but at last they said, 
"One thing more we can bring to thee, and then our limit is 
reached. In the kingdom of literature there is a Book in 
which, 'tis said, are disclosed treasures superior to all the 
earth can yield. They are not visible to us, but there is an- 
other attendant spirit that can be summoned, who holds the 
key to unlock all this hidden wealth, and even to reveal still 
greater and richer stores bevond." They brought the soul the 
Bible and then disappeared. 

In the midst of desolation and sorrow, and not knowing what 
else to do, the soul opened the Bible and read: "Ask, and it 
shall be given; seek, and ye shall find; knock and it shall be 
opened." " For he that asketh, receiveth, and he that seek- 
eth, findeth." Spirit of God, it cried, " Come to my relief, 
and show me the Way, and the Truth, and the Life." And 
quickly a brighter light began to shine around, and another 
guide came to her side saying, " O soul, thy companions were 
not able to give thee the good thou didst crave, nor were 
they able to lead thee to the land of fruition, because they 
are of the earth; their names are Sight and Reason; they 
have no power to scale the walls of the material and the actual. 
But I come from the land of light and rest above; "from the 
land of our God, and the home of the soul, where rivers of 
pleasure unceasingly roll, and the way-worn pilgrim reaches 
his goal on the ever-green mountains of life". Give me a 
place on the throne of your affections, and put thy hand in 
mine, never withdrawing it, and I can lead you safely within 
the crystal walls." With tears of joy and gratitude the soul 
surrendered itself to faith, and was saved. 

But faith is not mere imagining, on the contrary it always 
rests upon a basis of either moral or tangible evidence. And 
here we must distinguish again between several varieties or 
kinds of faith which exist in life. First and most simple of 
all, is the faith of little children in their parents; a genuine, 
unsuspecting, hearty and beautiful faith, and the type of 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 615 

^Christian faitn; a faith resting on both moral and tangible ev- 
idence; a faith that will remain strong until the evidence is 
taken away, and then it will speedily die, giving place to fear 
and dread. In other words, when the parent ceases to give 
evidence to the child of the sincerity of its love, then the 
child at once loses its faith. This evidence on which the 
child's faith rests, appeals to his eye and heart; it is seen in 
the parent's look, and tone, and words, and felt in the child's 
soul. 

A second kind may be called business faith, but always, 
as in the first case, resting on evidence, and ceasing the moment 
that evidence is destroyed. One firm trusts another only and 
simply because the second convinces the first of its financial 
integrity and ability. And this kind of faith is so necessary 
and important, that it lies at the bottom of nearly all the 
transactions of business life. 

A third kind may be termed historic faith; that which is 
exercised in regard to all books and records that come down 
to us from the past; but here, as heretofore, the books are value- 
less in our eyes, so far as they contain facts and documents, 
until they are well authenticated. This kind of faith many 
exercise with regard to Christ and the Scriptures, and suppose 
it to be all that is necessary to salvation; but they make a fatal 
mistake. 

Again, distinctively Christian or Scriptural faith is no ex- 
ception to this law. No man can exercise true faith in the 
Bible as the Word of God; or in Christ, as the Son of God 
and the Saviour of mankind, until the Bible and Christ come 
home to his soul as the most central and vital of all realities, 
and real things. The evidence for faith to rest on here, is 
partly moral, appealing to the soul rather than to the eye, and 
partly historic, satisfying the mind. In other words, there is 
external data sufficient to establish the existence of Christ 
and the authenticity and credibility of the Gospel narratives, 
and this is supplemented by the strong internal response of 
our moral natures, telling us in a manner not to be set aside, 
that this is the truth, and the truth of God. . . 



616 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

A faith which is purely blind and unreasoning, that rest& 
on no sort of evidence whatever, we rightly denominate super- 
stition; because it is a mere figment of an uncultured imagin- 
ation. This kind is found principally among the degraded 
and ignorant heathen, bowing down to gods of wood and stone,, 
and worshiping fire and water, beasts and serpents. A lack 
of evidence marks just the distinction between blind supersti- 
tion, and true faith. 

But faith to be distinctively Christian or saving in its na- 
ture, must come from the heart and work by love. And 
herein Christian faith diners from all other kinds. The faith 
of the heathen is made up of fear and dread, and leads only- 
to outward ceremonies and forms. The business man's faith 
is wholly mental in its nature; and can be held or not without 
affecting the life; so is that of the student in regard to books- 
The faith of the child comes nearest to that of the Christian;, 
but in this, the appeal to the eye is and must be always- 
stronger than to the heart; whereas in distinction from this,, 
stands out the declaration of inspired Christian experience 
that " with the heart alone man believeth unto righteousness. ,? 

We have often tried to sketch, mentally, the process of be- 
lieving unto life, and this would be an outline of it. God 
first comes to the soul either through the printed page or 
through the living voice. Truth knocks at the gate of the 
mind and seeks admission. But the mind is pre-occupied,. 
and says, "I cannot attend to you." Truth knocks again and 
agaiu, and finally secures an entrance. It then exhibits be- 
fore the bar of the mind its credentials; or in other words,, 
submits its evidences; and after examination these are accepted 
and pronounced sufficiently valid and convincing. 

Conversion however has not taken place yet — very far from 
it. This is only intellectual or historic faith; the main part, 
of the work is yet to come. The mind sends down word to the 
heart or moral nature that Divine truth is present, and is 
earnestly claiming its loyalty, its obedience and its affection.. 
The heart can now take one of two courses. It can hesitate 
and refuse this obedience and love; it can take the will, which. 




T (B n I U © A M GD W A C I 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 617 

is the bolt of its door, and snap it into its fastenings, and 
thus bar the truth out, saying, "The throne of my affections 
is already occupied by my own selfish interests, and I don't 
want to be disturbed; I have no room for another King;" or, 
it can throw back the bolt of will and open the door, and 
give the truth audience and listen to its claims; and, discovering 
them to be of paramount and supreme importance, it can say, 
"I yield. Cast down Self that has so long occupied a throne 
of power, ar;d do thou reign in and rule over my heart, my 
interests, my life. I do now give myself up in unreserved 
consecration to thee, and will henceforth live for thy glory, as 
I should have done long ago." Truth then comes in, occu- 
pies the throne of love, the intellect yields its obedience, and 
thereafter Christ is King of Kings and Lord of Lords; and 
thus the soul truly and savingly believes and passes from death 
unto life. 

Having thus glanced at the nature of faith, let us now 
consider the second main thought proposed, viz; the power of 
faith. This w T orld and the next are almost always represented 
in the Scriptures as opponents, each claiming dominion over 
life, over time, and action. And faith is held up as the agent 
by which this world is overcome and. a victory gained for the 
other and better world. Or, stating it in other phraseology > . 
this world stands as the representative of finite and created 
good, and the other, of infinite and eternal good; the one of 
things seen, the other of things unseen. 

Every one knows by experience that the eye takes in evil 
by seeing it, and opens the soul to all the attractions and 
pleasures of this world, to the serious detriment and disadvan^ 
tage of those interests which pertain to the next. We all 
know, too, that the soul is ever ready to follow the eye; that 
desires are enkindled by sight; and that the connection 
between the soul and the outward world, is not only intimate 
and close, through the bodily senses, but also most dangerous 
to its spiritual life and welfare. And hence the need of some 
power or principle in the soul by which the inordinate influ- 
ence of this world upon one's spiritual well-being can be 
at least partly counteracted. 



43 IS THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

And just this power or principle, God in his rich goodness 
and mercy has given us in the power of Christian faith; the 
power of taking hold of the unseen; the power which can 
bring down eternal realities into our souls, and make them 
even more vivid to us than the scenes of ordinary life; the 
power which can envelop us in a spiritual atmosphere; the 
power that can make us regard every action here, as the start- 
ing of a wave of influence which stops not in its course until 
it strikes against the shores of eternity. 

ISTow, if any one asks how faith brings about this most de- 
sirable result, we answer: in the same way that- the morning 
sun puts out the stars, by eclipsing them ; by overcoming 
thern with superior light and glory, by extinguishing them 
in brilliancy of a higher and stronger order. God does not 
act so unwisely as to command us to crucify our love for 
this world, and then give us nothing to take the place of it. 
On the contrary, by this divine and miraculous power of faith, 
lie enables us to so connect ourselves with the future and eter- 
nal world, that its superior attraction shall overcome and 
render harmless the seductive evils and pleasures of this. 

Thus, to take the place of the splendor and pleasures of 
earthly cities, Faith brings to view the city of the New Jeru- 
salem, whose builder and maker is God, whose walls are jas- 
per, and whose gates are pearl, and whose foundations are 
eternal; and Faith enables the soul to live within those gates 
and to walk those streets and to sit down beneath that tree of 
life. In the place of these earthly treasure-houses, Faith 
summons us to deposit enduring riches in heavenly vaults 
where no casualty can befall them, and where no burglar ever 
penetrates. To keep us from loving our homes with all their 
-conveniences and luxuries too fondly, Faith points to a 
heavenly mansion in our Father's home above. To enable the 
soul to release itself from a thralldom to social folly and the 
gay vortex of pride and vanity and display, Faith lifts it up 
into communion and companionship with the hoby and pure 
society of Heaven, and bids it slake its thirst at fountains 
whose waters inspire, but never degrade or intoxicate. For 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. * 619 

robes of earthly beauty, Faith speaks of garments of glory 
that wax not old, and of a robe of righteousness in which all- 
perfect heavenly dress, our souls may forever shine. And 
while we are necessarily engaged in earthly traffic and com- 
mercial pursuits, Faith invites us to carry on holy trade and 
barter with the land that is filled with heavenly spices and pro- 
visions for immortal wants. And thus, at every point, Faith 
provides the soul with that which will offset and counteract 
the influence and deadly fascination of a life in the flesh. 

The victory that overcometh the world is only secured by 
this power of a living faith; by being so persuaded of the truth 
of God's Word, and so filled with its light, and so surrounded 
by higher and better realities, and so impregnated with love 
for spiritual things and spiritual communion, that earthly ob- 
jects and attractions shall lose their hold upon us, and cease 
to withdraw our feet from the heavenly highway to a truer 
and better life. 

Does any one say that all these blessed results and conse- 
quences can never be realized in an earthly life? Then turn 
to the Bible and read of Abel and Noah and Abraham and 
Sarah and Jacob and Moses and David and Samuel, and then 
ask, were these men and women more favorably situated, than 
are the favored dwellers in this nineteenth century? Did 
they have more light than we, or more spiritual advantages 
and privileges? Were they not of like passions with us, just 
-as faulty and full of sin and the love of the world? And the 
answer to these questions will shame such a thought out of 
any candid mind. 

Said Sir Humphrey Davy: " I envy not quality of mind or 
intellect in others, neither genius, power, wit or fancy; but if 
I could choose what would be most delightful, and I believe 
most useful to me, I should prefer a firm religious faith to 
■every other blessing. For it makes life a discipline of good- 
ness; creates new hopes when all other hopes vanish; throws 
over the decay and destruction of existence the most gorgeous 
of all lights; awakens life even in death, and from corruption 
and decay calls up beauty and divinity; makes an instrument 



620 ' THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

■ 

of torture and shame the ladder of ascent to paradise; calls 
up the most delightful visions of plains and amaranths, the 
gardens of the blest, and the security of everlasting joys. 
And where the Christian believer sees and enjoys all this, the 
sensualist and the skeptic view only gloom, decay, annihila- 
tion and despair." 

The fact is, faith as a power in life is even stronger than 
sight, for by constant sight, as J. B. Walker has remarked*- 
" the effect of objects seen, grows less, whereas by constant 
faith the effect of objects believed in, grows greater. Personal 
observation does not admit of the influence of the imagina- 
tion in impressing a fact; while unseen objects, realized by 
faith, have the auxiliary aid of the imagination, not to exag- 
gerate them, but to clothe them with living colors and impress 
them upon the heart. And so the fact is true, that the more 
frequently we see, the less we feel the power of an object, 
while the more frequently we dwell upon an object by faith r 
the more we feel its power." 

To the inquiry, how shall I gain this wondrous power? "We 
reply: faith is the gift of God, and a fruit of the Holy Spirit 
within the soul. Jesus is set forth as its author and finisher,, 
and through his intercession, the Spirit is given in answer to 
prayer. By diligent reading and study of the Scriptures and 
hearing of the Word; by fervent, earnest prayer for the 
indwelling of the Holy Spirit; by devout meditation on 
heavenly truths; by discipline and trial, at length the filmy 
mists of earth will break away, and the brighter glories of the 
upper realm begin to unfold. But think not to acquire this 
power of faith in all its fullness suddenly; imagine not that 
God will pour it into your souls, as oil is poured into a lamp;, 
but expect it only as the result of persevering prayer and pro- 
tracted Christian experience. Faith like every Christian 
grace commences feebly, but groweth brighter and brighter 
until it culminates in an open vision that shall be forever un- 
dimmed and uninterrupted above. 

And in the pursuit of this primal Christian grace, Christ will 
be to us our best example. For he most emphatically was in. 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 621 

the world and not of it; he mingled with men but was sepa- 
rate from sinners; he walked the earth, but his soul was ever 
in the skies with his Father. "And like some column whose 
base is enveloped in an atmosphere of pollution, but on whose 
summit there streams perpetual sunshine; so Christ walked 
the earth below, but his soul was ever above, and in the light 
of that other world he viewed the concerns of this, and 
conducted all his ministrations to men." So must all live who 
would be his disciples and followers. And when, like some 
way- worn traveler who is fainting beneath a burning sun, but 
gathers new vigor by thinking of his home and loved ones at 
the journey's end, we grow faint from fatigue and are embarr- 
assed by a thousand cares and are half.heart-broken with grief, 
we must gather fresh inspiration and vigor by calling into ex- 
ercise this faith-faculty of the soul and through it viewing the 
King in his beauty and the supernal glories of the land to- 
wards which we hasten. 

"We need no change of sphere 
To view the heavenly sights, or hear 

The songs which angels sing. The hand 

Which gently pressed the sightless orbs erewhile, 

Giving them light, a world of beauty and the friendly srnile r 

Can cause our eyes to see the better land." 




THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



CHAPTEE TIL 

Regeneration or the New Birth. 

"Poor, wandering soul ! I know that thou art seeking 

Some easier way, as all have sought before, 
To silence the reproachful inward speaking- 
Some landward path unto an island shore. 

The Cross is heavy to thy human measure, 

The way too narrow for thine inward pride; 

Thou canst not lay thine intellectual treasure 
At the low footstool of the Crucified. 

In meek obedience to this heavenly Teacher, 
Thy weary soul can find its only peace ; 

Seeking no aid from any human creature, 
Looking to God alone for thy release. 

For poverty and self-renunciation, 

The Lord yields back a thousand-fold ; 

In the calm stillness of regeneration 
Comes joy we never knew of old." 



MOKG the many notable chapters in John's gospel, 
is that one detailing the interview and conversation 
of Christ and Nicodemus. It forms, as it were, the 
impassable boundary-line between truth and error in regard to 
the "new man" in Christ Jesus, and the new life which 
Christianity introduces. One is inclined to feel that had not 
John written this gospel to supplement the three that already 
existed, and had not this conversation with J^icodemus been 
recorded, the system of Christianity, as a whole, would have 
been left incomplete. 

Let us glance for a moment at the striking features of this 
interview 7 . It occurred in the night, and probable late in the 




SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 623- 

night, when no other visitors would be present, and when there 
would be no fear of detection. It was an earnest, confidential 
interview; not one of mere courtesy. Yeiy few, if any, hol- 
low, conventional words and set phrases were uttered on either 
side. It was a fair, undisguised contact of two spirits, one 
human, the other divine-human; one eager to learn, the other 
anxious to teach; the subject matter before them being the 
most vital and profound that could possibly engage either di- 
vine or human thought. 

In a limited and modified sense, the two persons then con- 
fronting each other were representatives of two dispensations; 
of two great epochs of time; two marked stages of develop- 
ment in God's redemptive plan. On the one side was Nico- 
demus, a favorable specimen of the better, more intelligent 
more inquiring class of the Jews. He was a ruler; had au- 
thority; possessed wealth and titles; was looked up to as a 
guiding mind. He was a teacher of the law; disposed to ex- 
amine matters and inquire into principles, although blinded 
as were all the Jews ; he was evidently dissatisfied with the 
existing religious condition of his nation ; was looking forward 
to a change for the better; had evidently kept his eye for some 
time upon the Prophet of Nazareth; had marked his life; had 
weighed his words; had closely studied his miracles. He was 
in a state of doubt and anxiety. " I will go to him " he thought, 
"and learn from his own lips." And so, when darkness had 
shrouded the city and the streets had become still and deserted, 
he sought Christ's temporary dwelling-place. Over against 
him sat the Lord Jesus Christ who alike baffles and needs no 
description. 

Nicodemus had made his confession, and stated the condi- 
tion of his thoughts. "And now master," he doubtless said, 
"tell me what is the fundamental principle of the system you 
propose to introduce." Jesus answered and said unto him, 
" Yerily, verily I say unto thee, except a man be born from 
above (as the words may read) he cannot see the kingdom of 
God." .Nicodemus stumbled at the words, as thousands have 
since; asked an explanation, which was given; and, more per- 



624 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

plexed than when he came, departed to his home. But the 
-all-important declaration had been made, "ye must be born 
again," and it never could be lost, nor never changed. There 
it has stood upon the page of scripture, and ever will stand, as 
the fundamental principle of Christianity, the standard of a 
true faith, the touch-stone of saving truth. 

Out from this declaration of Christ, and this conversation 
with Nicodemus, there can come but one subject or doctrine, 
and that is, the new birth. This is the one specific idea which 
Nicodemus failed to grasp, and which thousands since his 
day, have also failed to grasp. What is it, therefore, to be 
born again, or born from above ? What particular part of 
man is included in this expression? Where is the seat and 
-source of the change ? 

The expression itself is figurative ; still, it is a wonderfully 
apt and forcible figure. None other than unerring wisdom 
could have made so just and so happy a selection of termin- 
ology. Of course there is no literal, outward, physical birth. 
The mistake of Nicodemus was that lie apprehended these 
words literally, and asked Christ, w T ith profound amazement, 
how a man could be born when he was old. It is not strange, 
however, that Nicodemus made this blunder; the Jews as a 
nation, with rare exceptions, constantly perverted Christ's 
teachings, until the spirit of truth was sent to them to open 
the eyes of their understandings. But we must not imitate Nic- 
odemus in this respect. The " outward man " as such, inclu- 
ding size, shape, features, proportions, general outline and 
contour, are just the same before as after this new birth. The 
strength of physical passions and appetites is the same; bodily 
wants the same. Nothing is changed in man physically; no 
organs given, none taken away. The only effect of the new 
birth upon the body is to turn its activities into a nobler chan- 
nel, and subdue and restrain its ungovernable lusts; in a 
sense, sanctifying its life by connecting it with higher purposes 
and spiritual aims. 

And what is true of the organs and functions of the body 
is equally true of the intellect of man. Nothing is given here 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 625 

in structure, or taken away, by the new birth. The faculties 
of the intellect are just the same before as after the change; 
no more, no less. The direction and moral character of intel- 
lectual activity is affected greatly by the birth, yea, affected 
vitally and radically, but not the powers that produce the ac- 
tivity. Keason, memory, imagination, perception, all remain 
intact. Argument as strong, wit as keen, penetration as pro- 
found, insight as sharp, logic as good, are produced by minds 
unregenerate as regenerate. Some of the greatest master- 
peices of human thought and composition have been produced 
by such minds; although it is only fair to add, that no ac- 
count is taken in this statement of that unconscious, indirect 
influence of Christianity on such minds, which reached them 
through the civilization by which they were nurtured, and from 
which in great measure they derived their culture and power. 

There remains yet undescribed the deepest and the controll- 
ing part of man's nature; that part which governs his action, 
determines the moral character of his thoughts, controls his 
will; in a word, the ruling power in man. This is the love of 
his heart. Every man pursues that end and object of life 
which not only commends itself to his mind, but which he 
really and in his heart loves', and whenever there is antago- 
nism between the decisions of reason and the love of the soul ? 
as all know by experience, the love in the end triumphs and 
carries the man captive. Indeed this love so subjugates the 
intellect, that very speedily a man comes to believe just that 
which he loves; while the will of man is only the executive 
power that carries out the heart's desires. A man can no 
more go contrary to this ruling love of his moral nature, than 
a rivulet could reverse its progress and flow up a mountain- 
side, instead of down. The heart is the throne, and Love the 
king that sits upon it. 

But right here we touch not only the center of human per- 
sonality, but also the center and seat and source of evil in 
man. This ruling love in the soul, being a sinful love, not 
only controls but contaminates the man throughout. Partly 
by a transmitted, hereditary bias towards sin, and partly by 
40 



626 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

his own voluntary choice, every man by nature loves things 
earthly, more than things heavenly; loves sensuous and ma- 
terial good, more than higher, spiritual good; loves his own 
way better than God's way; loves his own projects and plans, 
his own ideas and notions better than God's revealed plans of 
life, better than God's revealed truth; loves himself, the crea- 
ture, more than God, the Creator; loves this world, as an end 
of being, better than that which is to come. 

Now, being " born again," or born from above, is to have 
this ruling, sinful love of the heart turned away from self and 
the world, to God and truth. Here is the precise, definite spot 
that religion touches and occupies in man; here is its fountain- 
head; here is its throne. When a man experiences religion, 
this love of his heart is turned about, as to the direction of its 
activities, from sin which is opposition to God, to fellowship 
and sympathy with, and belief upon Christ, as God manifest 
in the flesh, and as in himself constituting " the way, the truth 
and the life." The new birth then, is a new love in the soul] 
a love of spiritual good and of divine truth; a love of God as 
supreme, and of man as created in God's image; a love of 
Christ as God and man united, and so the great reconciler and 
mediator; a love of the Bible, as the word of God; a love of 
Christianity, as the product of Christ's teachings and suffer- 
ings in man's behalf. 

By this change of heart, or, more accurately, this change of 
love in the heart, man's life, which was perverted by sin and 
turned against his own highest welfare, is restored to its true, 
normal state, and flows on according to divine directions in 
the channel which leads . to ultimate and perfected glory at 
God's right hand. Christ becomes to such a one the second 
Adam; the second progenitor of the race; the Author and 
Giver of a new, true, higher and spiritual life; and as by the 
lapse of the first Adam, he became a slave to sin, and the 
love of his heart was towards and for sin, by the life and death 
and resurrection of the second Adam, as applied to his soul by 
the Spirit through faith, he becomes liberated from this bond- 
age to sin, and is made free to serve righteousness; in other 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 627 

words, he is born of the spirit, or born from above. Before 
this change in the direction of his love, he could indeed do as 
he pleased, but could only please to do wrong; for the sinful 
-current of his heart held him fast. And he could no more of 
himself change that current than a man could lift himself 
from the ground with his own hands. 

But why is this change or conversion of one's moral affec- 
tions called a new birth? Birth includes life and being and 
•organism ; and the phraseology would indicate that one was, 
by this birth, created anew throughout. It seems indeed a 
little thing to change simply the direction of the love of a 
human heart, and then say the man is born again; but the 
change in the direction of this love insures a gradual change 
in the man throughout ; because this love is the ruling power. 

You drop a watch and twist the mainspring by the fall, so 
that instead of keeping true time, it runs on by a standard of 
measurement wholly its own and very far one-side of the ac- 
knowledged standard. You take the watch to a jeweler, and 
he turns back the mainspring into its former place, and so es- 
tablishes the true, normal movement of the works throughout. 
What has he done? He has set the watch right, by setting the 
ruling, governing part of it right. In properly adjusting that, 
he affected it throughout. Somewhat like this is the change 

il CD 

in the direction and nature of the love of man's heart by the 
power of God's spirit at conversion. 

Take another illustration. When an insurrectionist with his 
followers rises up in rebellion against a government, and he 
as the leader of the party, is captured, or gives in his submis- 
sion to the regular, constituted authority, does not that one 
act in itself lead inevitably to the dispersion or surrender of 
.all his adherents and retainers? Even so it is in the nature 
of man ; when Love, as king and leader of all personal forces, 
submits to the authority of Christ, all the bodily and mental 
faculties follow in time the leading of the heart. And hence 
it is written, u Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy 
heart." 

Christ himself explained this process by the parable of the 



628 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

mustard-seed to which he likened the kingdom of heaven. 
This seed, he said, was indeed the least of all seeds, hut, when 
it is gi'own, it is the greatest among herhs and becometh a, 
tree. So this change of one's moral affections from sin to ho- 
liness, is, indeed, so far as outward appearance goes, the least 
of all changes, but when it is completed it is the greatest of 
all transformations, and becometh a new existence. 

For the birth of this Christ- ward affection in the soul pro- 
duces of necessity a new purpose and aim in life ; new motives 
and desires ; new views and thoughts; new choices and deeds. 
And when all these are changed is not the man "born again?"' 
Is he not a "new creature" in Christ? "old things having 
passed away, and all things becoming new?" As birth pro- 
duces life, and life produces thought, feeling, willing, choosing,, 
acting, so all these lead to development and expansion, which 
culminate in the perfectly redeemed state enjoyed by those 
who shall sit down at last with Christ on his heavenly throne. 

Such, imperfectly delineated, is this fundamental doctrine of 
regeneration as set forth in the Bible under the figure of a new 
birth. Such is the precise and definite change which it con- 
templates in man's nature, and such are the consequences to 
which it leads. It is no wonder that Nicodemus failed to un- 
derstand the import of Christ's words. He was a Jew and a. 
teacher of the law; he had been trained in outward religious 
ceremonies exclusively; he knew but little, if anything, of 
inward religious life and power. And as he sat there con- 
fronting Christ, the omniscient eye of the master looked be- 
neath the questioner's garb and outward seeming and read 
easily and accurately the state of his heart. He knew well 
that before Nicodemus could break away from his strong, 
Jewish prejudices, the force of his early education and relig- 
ious training, the influence of his position in the nation, and 
the example of associates; before he could conquer the pro- 
clivities and biases of his mental and moral nature; before he 
could become a follower of the persecuted Prophet whose in- 
structions he was then secretly seeking, a power must come 
upon him like the power of the spirit of truth, and must 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 629 

change this ruling love of his soul. And hence, in answer to 
the ruler's questioning look and words, Christ said, " Marvel 
not that I said unto thee, ye must be born again." 

But jet, Nicodemus was as favorably circumstanced, out- 
wardly, for becoming a Christian as any one can be, conse- 
quently, what was indispensable to him, is equally so to all. 
These words of Christ to Nicodemus should come home to 
every soul with the power and pungency of a direct, personal 
application; because they have such an application. Said the 
herald of Christ to the Jews, " And now the axe is laid at the 
root of the tree." Old Testament symbol-worship, and temple 
worship, and all merely outward formalism was to close with 
the advent of Him who came " to thoroughly purge his floor 
that he might gather the wheat into his garner, and burn up 
the chaff with unquenchable fire." " The time cometh and 
now is," said Christ to the woman of Samaria, "when the 
true worshipers must worship the Father in spirit and in 
truth." 

All outward forms in religion are only valuable in God's 
sight as they give utterance to an inward life. God being in- 
finitely holy, and possessing infinite penetration and insight 
into character and motives, it is repugnant to all right con- 
ceptions of him to suppose for a moment that he could be 
imposed upon by a hollow semblance, a mere form of right- 
eousness, when the ruling love of one's being was still un- 
changed. And yet, owing to the predominance of man's 
sensuous nature, the inevitable tendency of religious life in all 
ages is towards a soulless formalism. A certain amount of out- 
ward religious obsvrvance is apt to become the mere habit of 
respectable life, and habits of all kinds grow more and more 
thoughtless the longer they are continued. 

Says Gotthold: " A wild stock has all its branches pruned 
away and is hewn down to a span's length. It is then split, 
has foreign shoots inserted into it, and is afterwards bound up. 
Then it not only adopts the strange shoots and nourishes them 
with its sap and vigor, but even permits them to gain the 
mastery so far as to make it forget its wildness, and bear beau- 



630 



THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



tiful and delicious fruit. In like manner, if you take a branch 
of the wild olive and ingraft it upon a good olive, it becomes 
like a new creation. That which was useless or worse imbibes 
the virtuous qualities of the good olive and produces its fruit- 
So in regeneration. The sinner can never bring forth the 
fruits of grace till he is ingrafted into Christ and becomes a 
tree of the Lord's planting." 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 631 



dfe> 



CHAPTER Till. 

Believing on Christ. 

"0 Christ ! thou art the Way ! " 
All ways are thorny mazes without Thee, 
When hearts are pierced and thoughts all aimless stray, 
In thee the heart stands firm, the life moves free: 
Thou art the Way! 

Thou art the Truth! 
Questions the ages break against in vain 
Confront the spirit in its untried youth. 

Thou art the Truth: 
Truth for the mind, grand, glorious, infinite, 
A heaven still boundless o'er its highest growth. 

Thou art the Light! 
Earth beyond earth no faintest ray can give ; 
Heaven's shadeless noontide blinds our mortal sight; 
In thee we look on God, and love and live : 

Thou art our Light ! 

Thou art the Rock ! , 
Doubts none can solve heave wild on every side, 
Wave meeting wave of thought in endless shock; 
On thee the soul rests calm, amidst the tide : 

Thou art the Rock!" 



|^j BELIEF in Christ as the manifestation of God in the 

|jjmi& flesh, is the one and only distinctive Christian belief. 

rjS A belief in the general existence of God may be said 

to be a universal religious sentiment. Not only do 

all tribes and nations of men recognize the Divine 







Existence, but this belief is also common among the devils 
in hell, who are explicitly declared to believe and tremble. 
This belief is an ineradicable instinct of man's religious 
nature; one of those truths that find their way into the mind 



632 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

and heart of man through every avenue of information in- 
corporated in the structure and functions of his moral being. 
More than this, the whole universe proclaims this truth; the 
heavens above, the earth beneath, each flower and leaf upon 
the earth, each bird and insect that lives and moves, proclaim 
it. The sea roars it, the winds whisper it, the storm thunders 
it. Man's own moral nature responds to this truth; reason 
demands and accepts it, conscience announces and enforces it. 
Given a rational immortal soul, made in God's image, and 
a world around filled with clear evidences of Divine power 
and skill, and a belief in God's existence is inevitable. And 
this accounts for that ancient testimony of Plutarch's, given 
about the commencement of the Christian era, viz: u Go over 
the earth and you can find cities without walls, without tem- 
ples of art, without culture, but a city without gods and 
sacrifices, no man ever saw." 

It would indeed be strange, God having created the world 
and left the imprints of his workmanship upon it, and having 
created man in his own likeness and image, with rational and 
moral powers, if man, God's creature, living in a world of 
God's creation, should not be able to detect the evidences of 
his Creator's existence, and read the handwriting of his power 
and wisdom and glory. 

There is nothing, therefore, really or distinctively Christian 
in a mere intellectual recognition of the existence of God, or 
in believing on God in a general, indefinite way. There is 
nothing praiseworthy or meritorious about it, for after a man 
believes on God in this way, he has done nothing more than 
is done by the most ignorant and degraded tribes of earth, 
nothing more than is done by the devils in hell. In believing 
on God in this general way, he has simply allowed his reason 
and conscience to work naturally and normally, and he believes 
because his Corrupt heart and desires have not been able to 
crush the belief out. 

Neither is there anything specially praiseworthy in a gen- 
eral belief in the historical existence of Jesus Christ as re- 
corded in the four gospels. These four Gospels come down 



SAFETY IN KELIGIOUS LIFE. 633 

to us bearing more evidences of truthfulness, both externally 
and internally, than any other writings., of equal antiquity. 
No man whose mind is open to evidence of any kind can help 
believing that there lived in Palestine, over 1800 years ago, a 
most wonderful and extraordinary being whose name was 
Jesus. And to believe this is no more praiseworthy or meri- 
torious than to believe in the historical existence of Csesar, 
Socrates, or Hannibal. And yet a great many suppose that 
if they accept intellectually the mere facts of Christ's life and 
•death, they are really and savingly believing on him in the 
gospel sense. Whereas, the truth is that every man who be- 
lieves in history at all, is obliged to believe in the existence 
of Christ whether he wishes to or not. There is no escaping 
it, except by a universal historical skepticism. He who ac- 
cepts the histories of Greece and Rome as valid and authen- 
tic, must also accept the four histories of the life of Jesus, as 
recorded by the evangelists, unless he be a man destitute of all 
candor and impartiality of thought. And only the most in- 
corrigible now have the hardihood to question this point. 
All through the New Testament it is constantly reiterated 
that a real, whole-hearted acceptance of Christ, as God mani- 
fest in the flesh, constitutes, as we have already said, the only 
Christian belief; and that without such a belief, which in- 
cludes not only intellectual recognition and acceptance of, 
but personal, unreserved surrender to Christ, no man is or 
oan be a Christian. A general and even devout reverence 
for God will not save any. The demand is specifically that 
we believe in, accept of, and surrender to Christ, as the Son 
of ,God and as God manifest in the flesh, reconciling the 
world unto himself. Listen to such declarations as these: 
"The Father loveth the Son and hath given all things into 
his hand. He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting 
life; he that believeth not the Son shall not see life, but the 
wrath of God abideth on him." Here it is plainly taught 
that however much a man might try to reverence and love 
and worship God as the invisible Father, all such attempts 
would only incense the Father and make him more angry, if 



634 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

there were not united with these attempts an equal recogni- 
tion of the Son with the Father; yea more, unless the belief 
in the Son was prominent and pre-eminent, more near and 
vital than the belief in the invisible God could be, if separa- 
ted from Christ. And again we read, "That all men should 
honor the Son even as they honor the Father. He that 
honoreth not the Son, honoreth not the Father which hath 
sent him." 

God, as to the nature of his being, is unknown and unknow- 
able to man except through Christ. The heavens over our 
heads, indeed declare God's glory, but they declare nothing 
more, nothing further. The universe is packed full of the 
evidences of his existence, but they tell us nothing of what 
kind of a being he is, or what are his moral attributes. Even 
the Old Testament dispensation was imperfect in this respect. 
Christ told the Jews at one time, as they were boasting of 
their intercourse with God, that they had neither heard his 
voice or seen his shape at any time. We are also assured, 
and the statement justifies itself fully to our reason, that no 
man can see God and live. 

The work of specially revealing God to men was emphat- 
ically and pre-eminently the work of Christ. There is hardly 
a moral attribute of God, now familiar to men, which is not 
thrown back upon him from the manifestation of it in Christ. 
We have taken the attributes of Christ which he personally 
manifested, have taken the revelations of God which Christ 
communicated unto men by his teachings, and transferred them 
to the Father; so that all, or nearly all, of our present knowl- 
edge of God has come to us through this source. Christ said 
to men, "He that hath seen me, hath seen the Father." The 
heathen philosophers and sages of antiquity could demon- 
strate the existence of God, but they could tell nothing what 
kind of a being he was. That altar which Paul found at 
Athens tells the whole story; it bore the inscription, "To the 
Unknown God." The wise men*of Athens knew and felt that 
there must be, and that there was such a being, but they 
could find out nothing more. Likewise, the knowledge -which 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 635- 

the Jews possessed of God was very imperfect and very in- 
complete. And it has been only since the time of Christ 
that men could speak confidently and understandingly of the 
moral nature <aid attributes of God. 

But Christ as the God-man is a being whom we can at 
least partially comprehend. He wears the semblance and 
exhibits in all points the very nature of man. We can attach 
some definite form and shape to him. We know what he 
did, and what he said. We have his teachings and his com- 
mandments. We know the. manner of his life. He is a 
living, real, breathing personage to us. He is not human 
alone, not Divine alone, but Divine-human. We can rever- 
ence him and worship him, and we can approach him. He 
knows our frames, our joys and sorrows, our griefs and 
temptations. He is God, and therefore strong enough to 
deliver; he is man, and therefore approachable. 

Now, it is just because God by the very infinitude of his 
being is so necessarily removed from man, and because Christ 
by his Divine-human personality can come so near to man,, 
that makes just the difference between a belief in one and the 
other. The one belief is necessarily abstract, the other con- 
crete; one is liable to be merely general and indefinite, the 
other must, if it is anything, be close, personal, and vltaL 
Christ is too real, too near to us, to be believed on in a gen- 
eral, indefinite way. Every man is, and must be, either for 
or against him. 

Hence, in every true and real conversion, the soul is- 
brought by faith into new and distinct and conscious rela- 
tions with Christ, as its Redeemer and Saviour. Before this 
gracious change, Christ is practically nothing to the soul; 
afterwards, he is all in all. Before, he stands simply as a 
historical personage whose life is found in the gospels, and 
who is said to have something to do with the matter of salva- 
tion, but just what the soul neither knows, definitely, or cares. 
Afterwards, Christ is both Lord and King, the Author of 
life and salvation, the end of the law, a personal Leader 
and Captain, a perfect Pattern and Model. By this gracious- 



4336 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

change, the soul feels a new and distinct life within, which it 
is sure it derives directly from Christ, through the Holy 
Spirit. And the movings and workings of this new life, 
produces what is called Christian experience. 

The importance of thoroughly recognizing and preserving 
this distinction in our thoughts cannot be overestimated. 
Not that there is any essential difference of nature between 
God and Christ, because in the deepest and truest sense, God is 
Christ and Christ is God. But in the economy of redemp- 
tion, in the working of the plan of salvation, God has been 
pleased to reveal himself to man under a three-fold form, or 
as three persons, constituting the indissoluble and holy 
Trinity. And the center of this holy and sacred three, be it 
ever remembered by us, is Christ the Son. 

Conversion does not change a man's essential relations with 
God the Father. He is as much a creature of God's power, 
and as dependent upon him before, as after belief; he is as 
much a subject and under the sway and dominion of God's 
government before, as after. The only change produced by 
conversion is in reference to the attitude which the soul occu- 
pies towards God, and God towards the soul. Before conver- 
sion, God is angry with us, and afterwards he is reconciled; 
and this is all the difference there is between men in their 
relations to God at different times. But more than this takes 
place at conversion with reference to Christ. Before believ- 
ing, the soul knows little and cares less about Christ in any 
way. He is to such an one as a root out of dry ground, with- 
out form or comeliness, and possessing no beauty that it should 
desire him. Before believing, the soul feels under no obliga- 
tions to Christ; it does not recognize him except in the 
slightest and most inconsequential manner. Before believ- 
ing, conscience within does not naturally convict of sin as 
-committed against Christ, but rather as against God, the 
lawgiver and ruler. Christ to an unbeliever is practically a 
superfluity in the universe; there is no special need of him, 
no special work for him to do. He figures conspicuously in 
the Bible, it is true, but nowhere else; and to such a soul the 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 637 

Bible is a dead letter; therefore Christ is the same as a non- 
entity — simply a being on paper. 

But how great the change produced in that soul who lov- 
ingly believes! Belief brings Christ at once into the fore- 
ground; he is the main actor, the chief personage. As God's 
anger is removed and his frown disappears and the law is 
satisfied, he seems to retire, and Christ comes to the throne. 
The Father crowns him, angels worship him, the soul re- 
ceives, leans upon, adores, and loves him. Christ now be- 
comes the soul's Lord, Redeemer, Saviour, King, and Leader. 
The soul enlists under his banner, and he becomes com- 
mander-in-chief. His will is law, his word final, his example 
the model for imitation. Or, changing the figure, the soul 
by faith is grafted into Christ, and henceforth feels Christ's 
life and love pouring into itself and constituting at once its 
strength and hope and joy. It only lives spiritually by con- 
nection with him, as the branch only lives when joined to 
the vine. Christ becomes the literal source of spiritual life 
to such a soul. As from Adam it drew natural life with de- 
pravity, so from Christ, the second Adam, and the new head 
of the race, it draws spiritual life with power to obey and 
love, and so to acquire, gradually, a real holiness of character.. 
All this is included in coming into new and conscious rela- 
tions with Christ, through a whole-hearted belief upon, and 
surrender to him. 

We can now see that this distinct and new Christian con- 
sciousness, born of faith, constitutes the best and highest evi- 
dence of discipleship. This term, Christian consciousness, 
may be formidable to some, but it means simply the mind 
knowing in itself. We become conscious of an external ob- 
ject when we see it before us; we become conscious of an in- 
ternal state when we feel its power. And by Christian con- 
sciousness we mean the mind's knowing with itself that it 
bears these new relations to Christ. The question is not, do 
we believe in the existence of God; we can't help believing 
it. The question is not, do we believe that Jesus of Nazareth 
lived in Palestine eighteen hundred years ago; we can't help 



€38 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

believing that, if we believe any hi story. But do we accept 
him as God manifest in the flesh, and have we unreservedly 
surrendered to him as our personal Lord and Redeemer, and 
are we daily following his example and obeying his words as 
the law and guide of our life? These questions will settle the 
matter of our belief at once. No one need be in doubt for a 
single moment. If Christ is to us all that has been stated, 
then we are Christ's indeed; if he is not, then he is saying 
to us, as he said to his diseiples of old, "Ye believe in God, 
believe also in me." 

JSTot many years ago Jiere aro^e a school of critics in Ger- 
many known by the name of nationalists. Professing to dis- 
card all belief in the inspiration of the scriptures, and having 
constructed and laid down their own canons and rules of crit- 
ical testing, they proceeded deliberately to demolish the Bible, 
-as they thought, by picking flaws in its statements and exhib- 
iting what they were pleased to term its contradictions and 
inconsistencies. Being possessed of some mental calibre, and 
occupying prominent positions in the world of letters, they 
had, and are still having, considerable influence over the 
minds of the timid and hesitating. 

But after a while a good and great man arose by the name 
of Schliermacher, who said to these critics, You can't destroy 
Christ in this way, for the real heart and root of the matter 
is beyond your reach altogether. While you are quibbling 
about the Bible records, the active Christian consciousness of 
every believing soul goes on steadily increasing and develop- 
ing, and is an evidence by itself which overcomes the weight 
of your objections faster than you can produce them. This 
Christian consciousness which Christians have, must be an 
evidence of Christian life, and Christian life must come from 
personal faith- union with Christ himself, and you can't ac- 
count for its existence in any other way. And so, if you 
should sweep away the Scriptures, entirely, which of course 
you cannot do, there remains within this Christian conscious- 
ness undisturbed and untouched, and which bears its own 
independent and powerful testimony to the truth of all which 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 639 

you deny. Tennyson put the same thought in the follow- 
ing form: 

If e'er, when faith had fallen asleep, 
I heard a voice, "Believe no more," 
And heard an ever-breaking shore 

That tumbled in the Godless deep ; 

A warmth within the breast would melt 
The freezing reason's colder part, 

And like a man in wrath the heart 

Stood up and answered, u I have felt." 

Men saw the force of this reasoning, were reassured and 
strengthened, and Rationalism ever since has been compara- 
tively harmless except to those who inwardly and strongly 
desire to embrace it. 

How broad and well founded, therefore, the proposition 
announced at the outset of this chapter, viz: A belief in 
Christ, as God manifest in the flesh for the sake of the soul's 
personal redemption, is the real, and we may add, the only, 
distinctive Christian belief; and that unless the soul exer- 
cises this gospel faith in Christ, which includes acceptance of, 
and surrender to him, as its leader and Lord, it is not and 
cannot be converted in the true sense of that word. 

But, on the contrary, if one has thus believed, to him ap- 
plies the soothing and assuring words: "Let not your hearts 
be troubled; ye believe in God, believe also in me." Though 
the heavens were removed, and the earth should fail, and all 
other supports give way, on Christ the everlasting rock, the 
soul can And a sure and safe foundation. To such an one, 

"Christ and his love will be his blessed all 

For evermore ! 
Christ and his light will shine on all his ways 

For evermore ! 
Christ and his peace will keep his troubled soul 

For evermore!" 



640 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Christian Love. 

; 'I ask Thee for a thankful love, 

Through constant watching, wise, 

To meet the glad with joyful smiles, 
And wipe the weeping eyes. 

For a heart at leisure from itself 
To soothe and sympathize. 

In a service that thy love appoints, 
There are no bonds for me, 

For my secret heart has learned the truth 
That makes thy children free — 

That a life of self-renouncing love 
Is a life of liberty." 



'I love thee, O my God, but not 

For what I hope thereby, 
Nor yet because who love thee not 

Must die eternally. 
Not with the hope of earning aught, 

Nor seeking a reward ; 
But fully, freely, as thyself 

Hast loved me, O Lord." 




sgt 



T the outset of this chapter, we must distinguish 
sharply between love as exhibited in the Bible, and 
all other forms of its manifestation. Commencing 
at the bottom of the scale, the lowest form of love is simply 
animal passion, commonly called sensuality. Closely akin to 
this in nature is the love of food and drink, and dress. One 
step higher, comes the love of that which contributes to mental 
pleasure and profit, such as love of books, scenery, intellectual 
association, etc. Still higher, comes the love of parents for 




THE I 



E II R 



D § T ::: A § V : 1 I T 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 641 

children, the love of home and family, and natural brotherly 
love. Still higher yet, because purer and less selfish, is the 
love of country, or patriotism. And highest of all, is the love 
of God or Christian love. 

All the lower forms of love mentioned are merely transient 
passions or feelings, now strong, then absent altogether. The 
next grade is very largely the result of mental habits and ac- 
quisitions; something that can and ought to be cultivated by 
all. The next higher, parental love, is an unselfish instinct, 
not the result of cultivation wholly, but partly native, and 
common to animals as well as human beings. Pure pa- 
triotism, or love of liberty and law and right, as such, not 
simply for self but for all, high and low, rich and poor, is 
probably the highest and purest natural affection of which 
fallen human nature is capable; because it is farthest removed 
from mere animal desire and takes hold of the deepest and 
noblest qualities of the soul. 

J3ut Christian love is supernatural in its origin. It is be- 
gotten in the soul by the Holy Spirit, and is one of his fruits. 
~No man can know or feel Christian love unless his soul is 
open to receive heavenly communications, unless he is in im- 
mediate contact of spirit with God. For John says specifically 
and pointedly, "Love is of God, and he that dwelleth in love 
dwelleth in God, and God in him." 

It follows, therefore, that if Christian love comes from 
God, it must be godlike in character and characteristics. 
There will always be certain marks by which it can be known. 
What are some of these '( First, Christian love, like God, 
will be no respecter of persons, as such; will not be affected 
by any earthly and factitious distinctions, such as eminence 
of birth, the possession of wealth, power, beauty, fame, etc.; 
but on the contrary will regard highly those excellences of 
character which are of great value in themselves and in the 
sight of God, such as faith, humility, benevolence, Christian 
zeal — in a word, spirituality. Love of persons, as such, is 
simply a natural love, and not at all Christian or divine in its 
nature. Love of persons may be proper and may be sinful — 
41 



64:2 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

that depends entirely upon circumstances; but this and Chris- 
tian love are never to be confounded, for they are just as dis- 
tinct and separate in character as is the natural man and the 
spiritual man. One is earthly, the other heavenly. One 
takes note of the outside and external, the other of the in- 
ternal and spiritual. 

This natural love and a spiritual love, however, may coalesce, 
may exist together in the same mind and heart and at the 
same time and place, but still their existing together does not 
make them one and the same. It is common for all to love 
persons, as such; 'to love them for what they can do for us, or 
for what they have done for us; love them for their beauty 
and excellency, for their natural traits of character or dis- 
position. There may be and often is a sort of flavor or relish 
about a person's conduct and appearance and words that suits 
our taste exactly, and we love such persons in spite of our- 
selves. And on the other hand, there are those whose presence 
is distasteful and repugnant to our feelings. But there is 
nothing Christian about all this, unless deeper than form or 
feature or words or looks, we discern the lineaments of a soul 
for which Christ died, and which is to live forever in happi- 
ness or misery. 

True Christian love exists in its purest form, perhaps, when 
in exercise towards those who may be personally repulsive to 
us. Just as Christ when on earth mingled more freely with 
the despised outcasts, than with the chief priests and scribes, 
and walked and talked more with those whose characters stood 
at the farthest remove from his own, than with the outwardly 
high and moral, just so Christian love seeks especially to do 
good to those who are personally degraded, or unlovely and 
uncongenial. True Christian love will be just as strongly 
moved to labor with those whose personal presence is any- 
thing but pleasant or agreeable, as with the cultured and fa- 
vored ones. It will visit homes where to remain over night 
would be the greatest cross imaginable. It will not shun 
hovel or mansion, palace or cottage. In short, it will lead 
one to do just as Christ the Master did; not be affected or 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 6i3 

governed by person or position, but always having high re- 
gard for character, moral worth, and earnest need and want. 
Its objective point will always be the soul's spiritual condition 
rather than the bodily advantage or earthly, physical life of 
Tm inanity. 

This personal element in Christian love has been the cause 
•of very much mischief both in Christian life and church life. 
The church is viewed by a large portion of its supporters as 
simply a social institution ; a place where one can go on the 
Sabbath and have their religious sensibilities moved upon a 
trifle, where they can nod and bow to those whom they wish, 
to recognize and pass the rest by, and where they can form 
themselves into little clans or cliques for mutual admiration 
and attentions. The idea of working for the good of souls as 
Christ worked, hardly enters their thoughts; and if it does, it 
comes as an unwelcome guest, and is not entertained. It 
may, or may not dp harm for Christians to love each other 
as persons, provided this personal affection or dislike does not 
break up the exercise of the divine, spiritual love wdiich lies 
underneath. But when personal considerations alone govern 
Christian or church life, the results are disastrous and lamen- 
table in the extreme. One reason why many churches are 
not more homogeneous and united as solid, compact, work- 
ing bodies, is because there is so little Christian love in them, 
.and so much strong personal regard and dislike. As spirit- 
uality declines, so Christian love declines, for no one can dwell 
in love without first dwelling in God, and God in him; hence 
the way to regain a love for souls, as such, without regard to 
person, is first to love Christ and his cause and truth more 
deeply and warmly, and this union with Christ will inevitably 
bring about a union with one another. 

Again, Christian love is pure, or in other words, first pure, 
then peaceable, and full of all good fruits. It is pure as op- 
posed to selfish. It has often been asserted that Christian or 
divine love was more analogous to a mother's love than to 
any other known symbol; but when we come to examine the 
comparison closely, it utterly fails. Parental love is nothing 



644 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

more than an instinct, primarily, although it often develops 
into something higher; and an instinct, moreover, that is 
common to animals as well as human beings. The bear will 
light for her cubs and protect them and care for them to an 
extent that often surpasses any human affection. She will 
even die for their sakes more readily than many human pa- 
rents. We all know of persons in whom this instinct is sadly 
deficient, and who do not seemingly care for their offspring 
half as tenderly as do the lower orders of life beneath them. 
Therefore we say there is nothing inherently divine or super- 
natural in parental love. It can be called an unselfish instinct 
only because all instincts dominate over reason, and act spon- 
taneously. Every mother's love, when disconnected from the 
higher influences with which it often unites, has in it a very 
large amount of personal pride and selfishness, and is there. 
fore not a type of true, Christian love; for besides being 
wholly personal in character, it is always born of the flesh and 
not of the spirit. 

This however is not saying that a mother's love cannot be 
made a type of Christian love, for it often rises into thaty 
and then it displays a strong, almost heavenly character which 
has made it the theme of song in all ages. But parental love, 
divested of its personal element, ceases to be merely parental 
love, but passes over into Christian love, and takes on a higher 
and supernatural character. It is now parental love exalted 
or rather sublimated into spiritual and Christian love; and in 
this form it might be a true symbol of the fruit of the Holy 
Spirit in the soul, but not in its natural state. The nearest 
approach to true Christian love in the natural realm of life, 
would be seen in pure patriotism, or love of country and love 
of right and justice and truth, wholly irrespective of personal 
or selfish considerations. This patriotism, like Christian love, 
is love of man, as such, without regard to distinctions of birth, 
or color, or external condition; it is love of right and liberty 
regulated by law; it is love of truth and justice; it is a love 
of human welfare and human prosperity; of all that contrib- 
utes to the genuine advancement of the individual in the scale 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 645 

of being. But here the comparison ends ; for patriotism does 
not aim to affect the souls and spiritual welfare of men only 
through their civil and social relations; but Christian love, 
while taking in all this, is principally concerned with the wel- 
fare of the soul when this brief life is over. It considers the 
spiritual side of man's being as first and foremost in impor- 
tance, and aims as did Christ while on earth, to bring that 
out, and lead it forward in holiness and purity. 

True Christian love then, cannot be selfish in character, it 
does not work merely for reward, it does not think about re- 
flex influences and personal returns. For the moment these 
ideas predominate, it ceases to be Christian love. As Christ 
said, "If ye love those that love you, what thank have } T e? Do 
not even the Publicans the same? If ye do good to friends 
only, what do ye more than others?" True Christian love 
leads one to imitate God who-sendeth his rain upon the just 
and the unjust, expecting no return; in the words of Paul, "it 
suffereth long and is kind ; it envieth not; it vaunteth not it- 
self and is not puffed up; it seeketh not its own, is not easily 
provoked, thinketh no evil ; hopeth all things and endureth 
all things," that God may be honored and souls benefited, and 
saved. 

But as Christian love is supernatural in its origin, and de- 
rives both its name and characteristics from Christ, so the 
best delineation of it which can be given is an enumeration of 
the characteristics of the love which Christ exhibited. This 
love of Christ was, first of all, a tender, patient love. Its ten- 
derness and patience were displayed perhaps most conspic- 
uously in his continuous treatment of the chosen twelve. 
Christ had many difficulties to contend with, but none greater 
than his own disciples. How he bore with their faults and 
errors, their weaknesses and shortcomings! How kindly and. 
tenderly he nursed their weak faith. How gently he corrected 
their mistakes, being always careful not to break the bruised, 
reed or quench the smoking flax of genuine piety, and never 
recusing to instruct them over and over again on the same 
;p its. 



64,6 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

Look for example at the disciples in a boat crossing the- 
sea of Galilee in a storm. Notwithstanding they had seen so 
many displays of Christ's power before, had seen him cure the 
sick, raise the dead, feed the multitude miraculously, yet now 
when the wind blew a little too strongly, and the waves rolled 
uncomfortably, and they were getting wet, and there was 
more water in the bottom of the boat than there ought to be,, 
and affairs looked threatening generally, they go to him in 
mingled alarm and terror, almost rebuke him with words of 
remonstrance and ask him to save them. Notice his reply- 
He readily complied with their wishes, rebuked the sea and 
the winds, instead of the disciples who deserved it, and then 
turned around to them and simply said with plaintive accent, 
"Why are ye so fearful, O ye of little faith?" — and dropped, 
the subject. 

Take the case of doubting Thomas who refused to believe 
in the reality of Christ's resurrection until he could demon- 
strate the fact by the touch of his hands. The proofs of the 
resurrection were ample, and they all appeared to be convinced,, 
but Thomas remained incredulous. Mere human love would 
have felt hurt at such an exhibition of unbelief, and would 
doubtless have said, "Well, if he wishes to be so obstinate, let. 
him become convinced as best he may," and then left him.. 
But Christ did not so. He saw that here was a soul in real 
difficulty; for the incredulity of Thomas was not a matter of 
obstinacy — if it had been, Christ might have left him — but 
rather of temperament and disposition. Thomas was slow in 
his mental processes, lacking the natural gift of faith; he was 
a man who came to his conclusions laboriously, and then held 
them firmly and tenaciously. And Christ knew that to leave 
Thomas as he was, with his turn of mind, was perhaps to 
throw him off forever; and so he appeared to Thomas when in 
company with the rest of the disciples, and accommodated 
himself to his mental and spiritual demands in the presence 
of them all. It was an amazing act of tender, patient love on 
the part of Christ; and see what wonders it wrought in that 
disciple's views and feelings. It brought out that noble con- 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 64.7 

fession of divinity, the strongest but one in the whole gospel 
history, " My Lord and my God," and also fastened the soul 
of that disciple to the ways of truth forever. Looked at in one 
light, the demand of Thomas was unreasonable, but Christ saw 
it was the great turning-point of his spiritual history, and so 
his tender, patient love let itself down to the required exami- 
nation. 

But the greatest exhibition of tenderness and patience in 
Christ's love was seen on the Cross. In those last hours of 
Christ's life you see his character intensified and concentrated. 
What appears as good in his ordinary life is brought out in 
far clearer light by the scenes of the Crucifixion. As Christ 
hung there nailed to the wood, he was suffering intensely, un- 
justly, and innocently; and if there is anything that will make 
the human spirit irritable, it is to suffer unjustly. Yet, look- 
ing down upon his cruel and stony-hearted executioners, in- 
stead of upbraiding them, he tenderly prays for them, saying, 
" Father, forgive them for they know not what they do." 
Then, looking round again he sees his mother and John stand- 
ing there, and although his mother had frequently tried to 
hinder him in his work; had betrayed a spirit of non-appre- 
ciation, not to say hostility, with regard to his public course 
and life, yet mark how tenderly and patiently he loves her 
still! Instead of leaving her to her fate, he says to John, 
"Son, behold thy mother," and to her, "Woman," which was 
a title of respect, " behold thy son." And from that hour 
John took her unto his own home. 

This love of Christ was also an impartial love. In his 
spiritual ministrations, Christ recognized no class distinctions. 
Although he knew they existed all around him, yet he ex- 
pressly said that in religious life there was neither Jew nor 
Greek, male nor female, bond nor free. And accordingly we 
find Christ now in the house of the rich Pharisee, and again 
with the poor and outcast by the wayside. If he paid atten- 
tion to any one class more than another, it was the despised 
and oppressed. It was thrown at him as a taunt that he was 
a friend of Publicans and sinners and kept their company. 



648 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

And it was true; not that their company was preferable to 
that of others, but he came to seek and save those who were 
lost, and in the fulfillment of that mission he passed by none. 

On one occasion a certain wealthy Pharisee invited him to 
dine at his house, and Christ went in and sat down to meat. 
While there, a woman of the street came in, stole softly up 
to his couch, and began to break upon his feet an alabaster 
box of ointment and to wipe them with her hair. Christ 
spurned her not, neither encouraged her, but continued his 
meal. Looking across the table, he perceived a fierce conflict 
going on in his host's mind. Says Simon to himself, "What 
kind of a man is this, who will allow such a woman to stand 
there and anoint him? If he was a prophet, as he claims, he 
would read her character and send her away." Now here was 
a critical case, requiring wise and impartial treatment. Si- 
mon's prejudices were to be rebuked and answered, the peni- 
tent soul at his feet must be saved, and still no approval of her 
sin must be given. Not appearing to heed Simon's indigna- 
tion and abhorrence, Christ opens the case, by saying: 
" Simon, Simon, I have somewhat to say unto thee." He re- 
plied, "Master, say on." "A certain creditor had two debt- 
ors; one owed him 500 pence, the other 50. And when they 
had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them both. Which, 
think you, will love him most?" Oh how evenly and impar- 
tially the scales have been held here! 500 and 50; Simon 
and the woman both debtors, but with this difference in char- 
acter. Then he went on: " Seest thou this woman? 1 en- 
tered thine house, thou gavest me no water for my feet, no 
kiss, but this woman hath not ceased to kiss my feet anol to 
wash them with her tears. Therefore her sins, which are 
many, are forgiven, for she loved much." 

Moreover, this love of Christ was a strong and enduring 
love. It never faltered or failed. It carried him through 
one painful experience after another, it carried him on to the 
painful close of his life. Human love, even when existing in 
purity is soon exhausted; vigorous when in prosperity, feeble 
in adversity. It is so easily turned aside from its object, so 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 649 

it 

weak, unstable, fickle! But in Christ no fires of persecution 
€ould consume, no waters of sorrow drown his love. a Having 
loved his own, he loved them unto the end." Notwithstanding 
at his trial his disciples all forsook him and fled, yet he met 
them after his resurrection just as affectionately as ever. 
Their bad conduct seemed to make no impression upon his 
spirit, or feelings. 

And in that terrific G-ethsemane experience, when the love 
of his heart and the greatness of the curse he must bear were 
contending for the mastery, his love was strong enough to en- 
dure the strain, and come out victorious. Who but Christ 
could have looked such a horrible death full in the face, and 
still have pressed on toward the cross? Such love, indeed, is 
as " high as heaven, broad as the earth, and deep as the sea." 

But best of all, this love of Christ was pre-eminently a self- % 
sacrificing love. Perhaps this was its most distinguishing 
trait. We love for the sake of being loved again; and unless the 
return love is prompt and satisfactory, our love soon ceases, or 
is very liable to grow cold. It is thus pre-eminently a selfish 
affection; but Christ's love was self-sacrificing all the way 
through. It originated in self-sacrifice. 

No one in this world can ever realize what a sacrifice it. 
was for Christ to leave heaven and come to earth at all 
What a difference in the two places ! What a differ- 
ence in society and surroundings, difference in enjoyment and 
employment, difference in treatment and usage. What a 
stoop from the Infinite to the Finite; from the companion- 
ship of God to the companionship of guilty, hardened, per- 
secuting sinners! Take a person of rare, delicate, refined 
susceptibilities, brought up in affluence, screened from con- 
tact with evil, and transfer him from that home of plenty and 
peace and honor, and compel him to become a homeless, 
penniless wanderer among those who not only did not under- 
stand or appreciate his worth, but who constantly hunted for 
his life, and you have only a faint analogy of the sacrifice of 
Christ in coming from the court of Heaven into that man- 
ger at Bethlehem — a very faint analogy, indeed. But yet his 



650 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

love was equal to the descent, equal to the transfer, equal ta 
the humiliation. Bat what an amazing act of condescension, 
what a stoop unparalleled when the Prince of Glory left his 
throne and allied himself with his guilty subjects! 

Again, look at the poverty-stricken experiences of his boy- 
hood and manhood; see what a contrast between being in 
heaven and working at a carpenter's bench on earth. And then, 
worst of all, to have no real companionship or sympathy while 
doing this work. • As far as his earthly relations went, Christ- 
lived a solitary, lonesome, home-sick life. No one understood 
him, no one entered fully into his spirit and plans. He 
walked the earth essentially and really alone. All the inter- 
course which strengthened or sustained him was carried on 
with his home above. Between him and every human being, 
there was a natural and moral gulf which could not be 
bridged. He was sinless, all others were sinful ; and this in 
itself separated him forever from all earthly companionship 
or equality. He could not be on a level with others, nor 
could others with him; for while they were of the earth 
wholly, he came from above. And so not onlj- his birth, but 
his whole life was one continued act of self-sacrificing love. 
And how strong that love must have been, to have kept him 
up through it all! 

But the greatest is not yet told. If his birth and life were 
acts of self-sacrificing love, what shall be said of his trial and 
crucifixion? It were humiliation enough, if he had died easy 
and peaceful, surrounded by loving and loyal hearts; but to- 
be insulted, jeered at, mocked, falsely accused, tortured, 
spiked to the cross like a brute, treated as a vile malefactor,, 
oh, this was cruel to the last degree. And yet that love of his- 
never gave way ! It carried him through not only his out- 
ward sufferings, but through the darkest valley of all, viz.: 
the hiding of his Father's face. This last was all the comfort 
he had enjoyed from the beginning; on this he had leaned all 
the way through; and now to have this last solace removed, 
it is no wonder that he bowed his head, and gave up his spirit 
in wild and utter dismay. Medical men say that Christ died 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 651 

literally of a broken heart ; that his grief was snch as to force 
blood and water into the heart in such quantities as to cause 
a literal rupture, and so to produce death instantly. 

Lastly, this love of Christ was a burning, indignant love. 
Burning in the sense of consuming and destroying; indig- 
nant in the sense of avenging. This God who so loves us is 
not imbecile, or weak, or foolish, but rather a perfect being, 
and as such is capable of wrath and anger. The connection 
between love and hate is more intimate than many realize. 
One writer hath said that hate is only love turned over, as 
though love and hate formed the two sides of one and the 
same affection. And without doubt this is substantially true- 
All those books which profess to give the workings of a human 
heart that has been abused and betrayed, have a basis of terrible 
fact lying underneath them. Nothing can exceed the fierceness 
of that avenging spirit which is roused up in strong, tender,, 
loving natures when suffering wrongfully. Take two hearts 
that have loved strongly and purely, and let that love be 
turned to hate by any wrong, wicked act, and how awfully 
bitter that hate becomes! There is nothing on earth which 
can be more cruel. 

Now it follows that if love and hate are so closely con- 
nected, psychologically, the stronger the love, the more terrible 
the anger. And so it comes about that the most dreadful 
malidictions, the hardest and harshest words of denunciation, 
the most fearful curses that ever fell from human lips, came 
from this gentle, tender, patient, suffering, loving Christ. 
Read his words to those false-hearted moralists, the Pharisees;, 
see him when he drove the buyers and sellers from the holy 
temple; hear him upbraid the cities which repented not at his 
coming; mark his words to Judas who betrayed him; and 
from all these examples learn that he who loves as no one 
ever loved before, can also have enkindled within him a fire 
of wrath that will burn to the lowest hell. 

Now Christ asks of those who would be his followers not a 
love that equals his, but that which resembles it; not love of 
the same strength, but of the same kind. A pearl of dew 



<352 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

-will not hold the sun, but it can hold a spark of its light. A 
child by the sea trying to catch the crystal spray, cannot hold 
the ocean in its tiny shell, but he can hold a drop of the ocean 
water. So with .true Christian love as compared with Christ's 
love. It must be a genuine dro 1- ) from His infinite sea. 




SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 66% 



CHAPTER X. 

t he Holy Spirit. 

"Holy Ghost dispel our blindness, 

Pierce the clouds of sinful night; 
Come thou source of sweetest gladness, 
Breathe thy life, and spread thy light. 
Loving Spirit, God of peace, 
Great Distributor of grace ! 

Manifest thy love forever; 

Fence us in on every side ; 
In distress be our Believer, 

Guard and teach, support and guide. 
Let thy kind, effectual grace 
Turn our feet from evil ways ; 

Show thyself our new Creator, 
And conform us to thy nature." 

HO and what is the Holy Spirit, and what are his 
offices in the Church and in the world, are questions 
second in importance to none that can be viewed by 
a Christian mind. Christ said at one time that unless he 
should go away, (that is go back to the right hand of God 
above) the Spirit would not descend upon his people, and con- 
sequently the work in them and through them which the 
Spirit has since performed, would never have been accom- 
plished. 

There will always be more or less of mystery connected 
with these utterances of our Lord. Why the Holy Spirit 
could not operate when Christ was personally on earth, and 
why he did not operate more powerfully during the three years 
of Christ's personal ministry, are* matters that can never be 
fully understood by us, until we understand all the relations 




654: THE IMPEEIAL HIGHWAY. 

which exist between the three persons that compose the Tri- 
une Deity. The simple scriptural facts are, that the Spirit 
•did not operate as powerfully as afterward until Christ w T ent 
away and sent him down; and that, after he was sent, the work 
accomplished by him exceeded all that had been done before. 

How many disciples Christ himself made when on earth we 
have no means of definitely ascertaining. Great multitudes 
followed him, and were healed by him and fed by him, and a 
great many believed on him in different parts of the country, 
but how many were spiritually regenerated, as they have been 
since the advent of the Spirit, we cannot say. Christ's life 
and ministry on earth were not a failure by any means, neither 
did they accomplish all that we would naturally think ought 
to have been accomplished, considering who the teacher and 
preacher was that labored. 

Three things, without doubt, combined to make this differ- 
ence. Christ had not yet died for our sins, according to the 
Scriptures. He had not yet risen again for our justification, 
and ascended up on high as our Intercessor and Advocate. 
The Holy Spirit had not yet taken his full place in the scheme 
of redemption. But at Pentecost, the sacrifice had been offer 
red, and the resurrection and ascension were facts testified to by 
friends and enemies; then last of all the keystone of the spir- 
itual arch, that which completed and held together and made 
effective all that had been done before, was dropped into 
its place, when "there came a sound from heaven, as of a 
rushing mighty wind, filling the house where the disciples 
(120 in number) were gathered, and appearing as cloven 
tongues of fire, sitting upon each of them, and causing them 
all to be filled with the Holy Ghost, and to speak with other 
tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance." 

And as far as the Scriptures represent, had not this last 
work been performed, the arch would not have been complete, 
neither could it have stood firm. The scheme of redemption 
would have been defective, and the gospel shorn of its sin- 
subduing and heart-conquering power. The Church would 
not have been born as a propagating agency, and the millions 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. .655 

who have believed would never have enjoyed, as they have 
since, the blessings of spiritual power. Glorious day for man 
when the communication between heaven and earth was fully 
established; when an invisible cable-wire extended from every 
believing heart straight up to the eternal throne, on which 
messages could be despatched both ways, and by which God's 
light and love and power and blessing could be received and 
felt in human hearts and homes. A day hardly inferior to 
that in which the babe of Bethlehem was born, or that in 
which the heavens were shrouded in blackness, or that in 
which the great stone was rolled away from Christ's tomb. 

The word Comforter in the Bible is not an adequate repre- 
sentation of the original term. In fact, there is no one Eng- 
lish word that does represent it fully. It is found only five 
times in the New Testament; four times in two chapters of 
John's gospel which were spoken by Christ at one time just 
before his arrest, and once in- the 1st letter of John (2: 2,) 
where it is translated Advocate and applied to Christ himself. 
" If any man sin we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus 
Christ the righteous." Paracletos signifies primarily a helper, 
an assistant, a representative, as well as a comforter and an 
advocate, thus showing how many are the offices which the 
Holy Spirit performs in the work of salvation and sanctification, 
and how full of power and blessing he can be made to man's 
soul. It is significant also that Christ chose this word at a 
time when he wished to instruct his disciples fully concerning 
their future life and work, and also to take their minds off 
from himself and transfer them to this other helper which he 
was about to send them. 

While reference is made to the Holy Spirit and his work 
some 300 times in the New Testament, yet he is called the 
Paraclete only five times. Why is this? We reply, it is to 
set forth the relation of the Holy Spirit to the triune God- 
head, and also set forth the very important relation which he 
was henceforth to sustain to Christians and the world. Said 
Christ in the 14th chapter of John, "If ye love me, keep my 
commandments, and I will pray the Father and he shall give 



656 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

you another comforter (or helper) that he may abide with yoit 
forever." Notice here that Christ places the Holy Spirit on 
a level with himself, thus making him God. Another com- 
forter, another helper, another representative, like myself. 
And he shall be to you more than I have been. Therefore,, 
"it is expedient for you that I go away, for if 1 go not away r 
he cannot come." This person whom Christ w r as to send, was- 
to come from the Father, even as he had come, thus indicating 
equality of origin and equality in nature and power. As he 
had been G-od on earth, so henceforth the Holy Spirit was to 
be God in the human heart; only he himself had been visible, 
but the Spirit should be invisible. This other representative 
of God should in one sense take his place on earth, while he 
himself w T ent back to the right hand of the throne to act a& 
Mediator and Intercessor. 

And thus the matter stands to-day and evermore. In the 
absolute and impenetrable depths of his own infinitude, dwel- 
ling in light that no man can approach unto, whom no man 
hath seen or can see and live, is God the Father, the Self-exist- 
ent, the Eternal, the Changeless One. At his right hand, 
standing between the throne and the earth is God the Son,, 
our Saviour and Mediator. But both of these are in heaven 
and away from us. We can pray unto them, but we cannot 
come near them. Have we, then, no God on earth? Are we 
bereft of the divine presence and power entirely? Ah, no; 
Christ made provision for this need when he sent into the world 
after his departure this other representative of God, the Holy. 
Spirit, that he might abide with us forever. "Whom the 
world cannot receive, because it seeth him not, neither know- 
eth him;" but Christians know him because they have been 
born again by his power, and he dwelleth with them, and is in 
them. 

But we must indicate a few of the Spirit's special offices. 
When he comes to a soul he finds it spiritually insensible, 
paralyzed, blind. The Scriptures use concerning it the phra- 
seology, "dead in trespasses and in sins," thus making it with- 
out spiritual" life or motion; physically and intellectually and 
emotionally active, but destitute of spiritual life and power. 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. G57 

The soul can hear about the gospel, but cannot spiritually 
understand it, and has no desire to accept it. Sometimes the soul 
knows what it ought to do, but like a man paralyzed it cannot 
do what it wants to. As Paul says, "To will is present with 
me. i. e. I have power to will, my will operates freely, but how 
to perform, I find not," i, e. I cannot carry it out; I cannot do 
what I know 1 ought to do, and what I sometimes wish 
to do. 

The Holy Spirit first accompanies some word of truth to 
the insensible mind. New views of self, of life, and of 
God now begin to crowd the mind and to produce deep agita- 
tion. Instead of being insensible, the soul begins to be awak- 
ened, begins to see and. feel and desire. The Spirit continues 
to press all these new considerations upon it until its 
past sins loom up like overhanging mountains and threaten 
to crush it forever. It then begins to be in agony and cries 
out to God for mercy, and for the first time is led to pray. 

Then having shown the soul its own lost state and led it to 
realize its sinful thralldom, the Spirit next turns the soul's 
attention to the remedy, and begins to take of the things of 
Christ and show them to the soul. This at first only aggra- 
vates the distress, because it adds a new accusing thought, viz: 
the thought of rejecting so long the means of salvation which 
God has provided. Finally, the Holy Spirit begins to give 
the soul power to believe, and it then surrenders itself entirely 
to hi'm who says, " I am the way, the truth, and. the life, and 
he that believeth on me, though he were dead yet shall he 
live." The soul now passes from a state of condemnation to 
one of justification, from insensibility to life, from blindness 
to sight, from paralysis to vigor. 

Up to this point the Holy Spirit has applied the word of 
truth and set in motion a course of religious thought and re- 
flection and meditation. Before the Spirit operated, the soul 
was careless, indifferent, proud, and self-complacent. It re- 
jected as an insult what the Scriptures said concerning its 
essential and. natural depravity. But the Spirit continues to 
use his sword, which is the Word of God, so vigorously that 
by and by the heart is all cut to pieces and broken up by 
42 



658 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

sharp strokes and rapid blows, and is glad to avail itself of| 
any method of escape. Then the Spirit applies the blood of 
cleansing. This expression of course is figurative but very 
truthful, nevertheless. The real work is to get the soul to 
surrender itself to Christ, utterly and entirely, and then make 
it feel that Christ has received and pardoned it, and that hence- 
forth Christ's merit is imputed to it. And then follows 
peace and pardon and joy, expressed in song and praise and 
prayer. 

The Christian life has now commenced in the soul, but the 
Spirit's work is not yet done. Now, he is to enable the soul 
to grow in grace and in knowledge, to help it resist tempta- 
tion and overcome sin, within and without; to help it pray 
the effectual fervent prayer that availeth much before God; 
to enable it to understand the Scriptures and feed upon them, 
and also enable it to work effectively and faithfully lor the 
salvation of others.. All the work of sanctification is the 
Spirit's work. All the Christian graces are his fruits within. 

In trying to state what the Spirit does for souls spirit- 
ually, the difficulty is rather to find what he does not do. The 
work of conviction is his, of enlightenment, of subduing, of 
believing, of understanding, of enabling the soul to pray and 
preach and exhort, of resisting evil, and growing in holiness. 
Says Dr. Jenkyn: " As the same shower blesses various lands 
in different degrees according to their respective susceptibili- 
ties, making the grass to spring up on the mead, the grain to 
vegetate in the field, the shrub to grow on the plain, and the 
flower to blossom in the garden; so the influences of the Holy 
Spirit, descending on the moral soil, produce convictions in 
the guilty, illumination in the ignorant, holiness in the defiled, 
strength in the feeble, and comfort in the distressed. As the 
Spirit of holiness he imparts a pure love; as the Spirit of 
glory he throws a radiance over the character; as the Spirit of 
life he revives religion; as the Spirit of truth he gives trans- 
parency to the understanding; as the Spirit of prayer he 
melts the soul into devotion; and as the Spirit of power he 
covers the face of the earth with works of faith and labors 
of love." 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS .LIFE. 659 



CHAPTER XL 

Prayer. 

"Prayer was not meant for luxury, 
Or selfish pastime sweet; 
It is the prostrate creature's plea 
At his Creator's feet. 

True prayer cloth humbly set the soul 

- From all illusions free, 
And teaches it how utterly 

It hangs, O Lord, on thee." 

"Blest is that tranquil hour of morn, 
■ And blest that hour of solemn eve, 
When, on the wings of faith upborne, 
The world I leave. 

For then a day-spring shines on me, 
Brighter than morn's ethereal glow ; 

And richer dews descend from Thee 
Than earth can know." 

liE famous Welsh preacher, Christmas Evans, said of 
prayer that it was " the rope in. the belfry: we pull it, 
and it rings the bell up in heaven." Mary, Queen of 
Scotland, used to say : " I fear the prayers of John Knox 
more than an army of ten thousand men." "With both of 
these characters, so opposite in themselves, prayer was real. 
And so it is, or must be, to all who would be Christians. It is a 
fact that God has condescended to put himself in real relations 
with men, so that their approaches unto him could be approaches 
unto a real, living being who knew what they said and was 
abundantly able to respond. This conception of reality is es- 
sential to the very existence of prayer. Before we can be said 
to pray at all we must believe and realize thoroughly that 




660 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

God is, and that lie is a rewarder of them that diligently seek 
him. Nothing is more vital, important, or absolutely indis- 
pensable than this. It is the secret of all effectiveness, as it is 
the source of all differences in prayer. One prayer is more 
powerful than another, simply because one suppliant is more 
real and true and sincere and believing than another. The 
mere form of words has nothing to do with prayer, but the 
underlying spirit is everything. And hence the Scriptures in- 
sist so strongly upon faith as an indispensable pre-requisite of 
prayer, because faith makes God real to the soul. It brings 
him before it as a ruling, reigning King and Creator and Father, 
and makes an approach unto him a real, vital act. 

But prayer in itself is not only real, it is also reasonable and 
entirely consistent. It is the aim of much of heathen and 
modern philosophy, as well as the special teaching of the cur- 
rent scientific theorizing of our time, to convince the mind that 
prayer is an impertinence; that it is absurd to suppose that it 
can possibly do any good, or cause anything to be changed in 
the divine mind or in the divine method of working in the 
world. These would-be wise men very gravely affect to look 
down with a smile of pity and contempt upon what they are 
pleased to term the weakness and fanaticism of those souls, 
which, in undoubted sincerity of belief, look up to God in 
prayer and expect their prayers to be efficacious. And they 
assert as the reason for their views and feelings, the impossi- 
bility of ignoring, superseding or contravening established 
natural law. 

There are two ways of meeting this objection ; by a faith- 
argument and by logic. These objectors assert one thing and 
the Scriptures assert another, entirely contrary ; so the whole 
matter is really a question of authority. "Which knows the most 
and is the best entitled to credence, the Bible or modern 
science? Which carries with it the most weight of age and 
experience, of application and truth, of reverence and of power? 
Before the flippant assertions of these skeptics can super- 
sede the declarations of the Bible, science and philosophy must 
first dislodge the Bible from the impregnably-fortitied posi- 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 661 

"tion it holds in human history and in human thought. And 
while they are busy at that, the world can keep on praying 
without much alarm as to the result. For if this position 
•could have been carried, it would have been, long before now. 
Satan and all his forces on earth have endeavored through 
thousands of years to storm it, flank it, surround it, and un- 
dermine it, but there the Bible stands as it ever has stood, 
deep-rooted and eternal as the everlasting hills, serene and un- 
disturbed as the face of the heavens. 

The logical argument is as follows: No one will deny that 
God is an unchangeable being, knowing neither variableness 
nor the shadow of turning; no one will question the existence 
-of established laws in the physical and moral worlds; but these 
two facts do not throw out the reasonableness of prayer, be- 
cause prayer is not something that has sprung up since the 
laws were established, and which was not recognized in the 
divine thought at the time, but rather when these laws were 
first ordained and established, they were arranged with direct 
reference to the answering of prayer. In other words, in the 
original system of law, direct and special provision was made 
for prayer ; a place, so to speak, was left for it and has been 
filled by it, from the days of Seth before the flood, down to 
the present time. 

To deny this arrangement of law, is to deny God's omnis- 
cience and perfection of character; for it represents him as a 
being who did not think about prayer when he established the 
laws of the universe and so left that out by mistake; and it 
represents him as requiring prayer of men, when he knows all 
the while it never can be answered! Away with such shal- 
low nonsense! Those who believe such a doctrine, ought to 
be very cautious and modest in calling any one else weak and 
fanatical. 

The unchangeableness of the divine character, therefore, so 
far from being any obstacle to prayer, is rather its sure and 
■certain guaranty. Prayer is sure to be answered when offered 
in accordance with the divine will, simply because God is un- 
changeable, and never fails to fulfill his word. If he were 



662 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

fickle, the answers would of course be uncertain, but as he is 
immutable, the answers are sure. Neither is the existence of 
established law any obstacle to prayer, but rather, like the 
character of God, a pledge and surety of its success. For as God 
in the exercise of his wise omniscience and foreknowledge, 
seeing clearly the end from the beginning, made arrangements 
for the answering of prayer through all time, and incorporated 
those arrangements into the immutable system of law, it fol- 
lows, that so long as any laws are in force, so long will prayer 
be answered when offered aright. Nay more; instead of 
prayer being an outside, disturbing force in this system of 
law, it is an integral part of the system — a link in the chain — 
and is even necessary to the very existence and working of the 
system as a whole; and instead of prayer being a superfluity 
in the universe, it is exceedingly doubtful whether the uni- 
verse, under prevailing forces, could exist long without it. 

Let no souls think, then, or feel, when they pray, that they 
are doing aught unreasonable or inconsistent in itself with any 
known perfection of God's character, or with any system of 
law which he has established in the realm of matter or of 
mind. For there is no act of a man's life more reasonable, or 
more in accordance with the dictates of his highest intelli- 
gence, as certainly there is none more in accordance with 
God's will and pleasure, or more thoroughly consonant with 
the established method of the divine government in the world, 
than is this act of prayer. Indeed, that is a rare and truly 
beatific moment for the soul when, closing its eyes to all out- 
ward impressions, it lays itself open to the divine inspection 
and pours out its desires and confessions and thanksgivings 
into the divine ear. Then, and then alone, does the human 
spirit attain unto its highest and truest possibility of exalted 
intercourse w T ith a superior intelligence. 

But what good does prayer do? What good has it done? 
Says Dr. Iiyland: "Prayer has divided seas, rolled up flow- 
ing rivers, made flinty rocks gush into fountains, quenched 
flames of fire, muzzled lions, disarmed vipers and poisons, 
marshaled the stars against the wicked, stopped the course of 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE 663 

the moon, arrested the sun in its rapid race, burst open iron 
gates, recalled souls from eternity, conquered devils, and com- 
manded legions of angels down from heaven. Prayer has 
bridled and chained the raging passions of men, and routed 
and destroyed vast armies of proud, daring atheists. Prayer 
has brought one man from the bottom of the sea, and carried 
another in a chariot of fire to heaven." 

But all this is historic; what good does prayer do in indi- 
vidual lives, and in the practical working of events? We an- 
swer: prayer helps God do his work in the world. It does 
this in two ways. First by bringing the suppliant into that 
moral condition in which alone it is possible for God to bless 
him. This is called the reflex benefit of prayer. God cannot 
bless any soul while rolling in sinful indulgence, or while 
stoutly maintaining its attitude of defiant hostility. There 
must be repentance, submission, and a humble, loving return 
of the soul to God before blessings can descend upon it from 
him. And there is no exercise in the world so adapted to 
bring about this receptive state in the soul, as prostration in 
prayer. When men are on their knees begging for blessings, 
they place themselves, as it were, by that act, under the spread- 
ing branches of God's great tree of life, and all he has to do to 
answer such petitions is to shake the branches a little, and down 
comes the golden, life-giving fruit into needy and anxious 
hearts! 

The parable of the prodigal son teaches that all that can be 
done for the soul while remaining in the far-off land of aliena- 
tion and wandering, is to send the Spirit to work upon the 
conscience and if possible induce a return; as the Father did 
not set out to meet his son, until the son had first started to 
go back to his father, and even then the fatted calf was not 
killed until the return-journey was entirely completed, and the 
son was safe in his Father's house. A great many seem to 
think that God's plan of salvation is so accommodating in its 
nature that it goes through the world bending and curving 
this way and that, to suit individual peculiarities and notions; 
rather is it like an iron railway track, straight-forward and un- 



664: THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

bending, and all who would avail themselves of its blessings and 
privileges, must come where it is and fall in with its appoint- 
ments; else the opportunity of salvation will sweep by and 
leave them behind. But prayer takes us into the line of 
God's movements and appointments. Sin in the soul acts 
like paralysis; it prevents the soul from moving toward God, 
and prevents God from moving toward the soul; as there ever 
is, and ever must be, an eternal and unquenchable hostility 
between sin and God. Therefore, one way by which prayer 
helps God carry on his work in the world is by so putting men 
into that condition of moral affinity and sympathy with him^ 
through submission to his word and will, that he can fulfill 
his promises to them, and thus increase the effectiveness of 
his witnesses and workers in the world. 

A second way in which the same result is brought about is 
by providing God, so to speak, with a channel of communica- 
tion to other hearts. This can be called the intercessory ben- 
efit of prayer, and it is as real and great and important as the 
other. It is expressed in the couplet, 

"Prayer is appointed to convey, 
The blessings God designs to give." 

"What the Croton Aqueduct is to New York city, furnishing a 
channel through which water is conveyed from a distant lake 
to thousands of needy homes, that to the world is prayer. 
Shall we understand, then, that blessings have been bestowed 
upon men and upon the world which would not have been 
given had there been no prayer? We answer, such is the most 
emphatic teaching of the Scriptures throughout. The pas- 
sages and instances are too numerous for citation; they are 
found on almost every page of both Testaments. Not that 
prayer ever made God do anything against his will, or against 
the principles of his government, but it has furnished booh the 
occasion and the means of unnumbered mercies to men. 

God blesses in answer to prayer, because it is his nature and 
will to do so; because such is a part of the eternal plan and 
arrangement established in the beginning, and because there 
seems to be an inherent necessity that divine favors should 
come to men through human media in order to be effective. 



SAFETY IN KELIGIOUS LIFE. 665 

The spiritual current from God, which is the grand source and 
agent of heavenly blessings, is like electricity in the air; it 
demands a conducting medium, a wire on which to run, a 
•channel through which to flow. And as, if you should take 
down all the wires in the land you would stop instantly all 
telegraphic communication, or if you should only remove a 
piece no longer than a finger's breadth, you would cause a fatal 
interruption of effectiveness until the breach was repaired, so 
if you should stop all the prayers in the land, you would in- 
stantly stop all spiritual communication between God and hu- 
man souls. Not that this cessation would change God or his 
plan and method of working at all, but it would destroy the 
■conditions of effectiveness and availability. And how abund- 
antly and mournfully these facts have been illustrated in the his- 
tory of religion on earth ! How many thousands have grown 
cold and so become destitute of all spiritual communications 
and influences from God, because they ceased praying and 
thus cut the wire running from earth to heaven. How many 
•churches have almost died out spiritually from the same cause. 
How many revivals have been nipped in the bud, or have been 
stopped even while in progress, because the workers ceased to 
pray in faith and work with heart and zeal. How many min- 
isters' labors have been thwarted and rendered inoperative 
from the same fatal cause! 

There is hardly any doctrine of scripture about which the 
w r orld is so practically skeptical as about this one of the effi- 
cacy of prayer. Multitudes admit it in theory that fail to be- 
beiieve it in practice. Nor is there any doctrine concerning 
which it is easier to go astray than this; or easier to run to 
extremes either one way or the other. There should be a great 
deal of thought and attention paid to the proper understand- 
ing of this subject, as it is so vital to the interests of souls, and 
to the church of Jesus Christ in the world. Of course only 
those prayers are efficacious that are offered from right motives, 
and with a supreme deference to God's will; offered for things 
in themselves calculated to bless and benefit, rather than sim- 
ply gratify; offered in faith and earnestness. But with these 



Q6Q THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

limitations, which are unavoidable on account of the vast su- 
periority of God to men, and the infinite excellence of his- 
wisdom and knowledge, there is an open and unobstructed 
field, and an urgent command given to go in and occupy it. 

And God is as much interested in our prayers, as we our- 
selves are, or can be. For the more true prayer there is in 
the world, the more he can bless, and the more will the world 
be brought into a right morai state before him. The more 
prayer there is, the more are hindrances removed from the 
progress of Christ's kingdom among men, and the more 
speedily will the redemption of the world be accomplished. 

It follows, then, that prayer is at once a duty and a priv- 
ilege for all. It is one of the legitimate spiritual weapons 
which men are to wield for the- pulling down of sin's strong- 
holds within, and for the upbuilding of the kingdom of right- 
eousness without. It has been well said that prayer is not to 
be looked upon as a kind of spiritual luxury, or as a sweet,, 
selfish exercise; but rather that souls are to present them- 
selves before God to plead for certain definite, specific favors 
and mercies to meet certain definite wants and necessities, 
both in themselves and in others. Men are never to pray as 
a mere matter of form, but whenever real wants present them- 
selves, then their requests should be made known unto God.. 

And as we value our soul's eternal happiness, the salvation 
of others, the extension of Christ's kingdom, the perpetuity 
and moral renovation of the world, the increase of power in 
the church, the fulfillment of God's decrees, the universal 
reign of righteousness, so we should pray; pray at all times 
and everywhere; pray whenever we feel a need, or a want; 
pray in public and in private; with our hearts, and with our 
lips. For, humanly-speaking, everything depends upon it. 
" We are laborers together with God." Christ intercedes in 
person before the throne; we intercede in his name on earth 
by prayer. The sick and sorrowing need our prayers; the 
tried and tempted need them; our fellow Christians need 
them; and the ungodly world needs them more than can be 
expressed. Yea, more and greater, in some high sense, God 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 667 

in heaven needs them, that lie may carry on and out his pur- 
poses of mercy toward the race. 

"Traveler in the stranger's land, 
Far from thine own household band; 
Mourner, haunted by the tone 
Of a voice from this world gone ; 
Captive, in whose narrow cell 
Sunshine has no leave to dwell; 
Sailor on the darkening sea — 
Lift the heart and bend the knee!" 

"With a God of peace above thee, 

Canst thou languish or despair? 
Tread thy griefs beneath thy feet, 

Scale the walls of heaven with prayer. 
'Tis the key of the apostle 

That opens heaven from below; 
'Tis the ladder of the patriarch 

Whereon angels come and go!" 




668 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



M: 



CHAPTEK XII. 

Conscib:nce. 

Oh, Conscience ! thou tremendous power 

Who dost inhabit us without our leave, 

And art within ourselves another self, 

A master-self; * * * * * ; 

How dost thou light a torch to distant deeds, 

Make the past, present, and the future frown; 

How, ever and anon, awake the soul 

As with a peal of thunder to strange horrors 

Through the long, restless dream of life ? 

Young. 

He that has light within his own true breast, 
May sit in the center and enjoy bright clay; 
But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts 
Benighted walks under a mid-day sun ; 
Himself, his own dark dungeon. 

Milton. 

Though thy slumber may be deep, 
Yet thy spirit shall not sleep ; 
There are shades which will not vanish, 
There are thoughts thou canst not banish. 

Byron. 




$F|£ OD has set up two tribunals before which all men are, 
|l)[j; or are to be, arraigned for trial and judgment; one is 
pf^g in the soul, and the other is in the Bible. One is 
* (||) v ^ ie j^j. Q jf conscience, and the other, the bar of abso- 
Lj lute or revealed truth. One is temporary and uncer- 
tain, the other, final and unerring. One constitutes a kind of 
lower court to the other, and its decisions may be reversed in 
the higher, or they may be approved, according to the facts and 
circumstances of the case. There is greater ability and more 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 669 

light and a clearer exposition of law always in the higher tri- 
bunal; but still, the decisions and the condemnation of the 
lower court are not thereby to be despised. For should a man 
be condemned in both, as he is very liable to be if the case at 
first goes against him, nothing but the mercy of God can 
help him. 

Dropping the figure, however, and speaking plainly, the hu- 
man conscience, which is referred to in the simile, is a faculty 
implanted within the sentient soul for the purpose of telling 
us when we do right and when we do wrong. Its function is 
that of a moral judge; it is, literally, the moral judiciary of 
the soul. It does not make moral laws, it only passes sen- 
tence according to the standard set up, and the laws already 
accepted. The work of making moral statutes, in all cases 
where they are not clearly revealed, belongs to the intellect 
and reason, and these statutes, so made and accepted, are 
handed over to the' conscience which immediately proceeds to 
pass sentence in accordance with their provisions. The in- 
tellectual faculties in council, constitute that mental and moral 
legislature or law-making power in the soul which is always 
in session; and conscience is the heaven-appointed judge to 
pass sentence according to the laws there laid down. 

Hence it follows that the decisions of conscience must al- 
ways vary according to the light and knowledge possessed. 
If the intellect and reason are darkened by sin or prejudice 
or ignorance or malice, the moral standard set up by such a 
mind will necessarily be defective and vicious; but yet con- 
science will pass sentence of approval or condemnation in 
accordance therewith. If a person has never enjoyed the light 
of Christianity, has never read the Bible, has never received 
right instruction, the moral standard in such an one must be 
low; his ideas of right and wrong must be erroneous; and so 
necessarily the decisions of his conscience will be very lia- 
ble to be wrong. 

And this accounts for the wide variation which we find in 
the decisions of this faculty under different circumstances and 
among different kinds of people. We have all recognized this 



670 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

variation or difference, and have often wondered at it, and 
wondered how it could be. The conscience of one man tells 
him that such a course of conduct, or such an act is right or 
wrong, and the conscience of another man will tell him just 
the contrary. The conscience of a Christian accuses him if 
he does not follow and obey Christ, the conscience of a hea- 
then mother accuses her if she does not throw her babe into 
the Ganges to be eaten up by the crocodiles. And on account 
of this wide variation or difference in the decisions of this 
faculty, men have been so puzzled and perplexed as to say, 
''Conscience is no moral guide at all; it has no original, in- 
lierent power. It is simply the result of education; men can 
grow their consciences as they do their vegetables, by proper 
cultivation and training." 

But the general confusion of thought upon this subject has 
arisen wholly for the want of a little clear-headed mental 
philosophy. Men have confounded the operations of the in- 
tellect with those of the moral faculty. Men have thought 
that conscience in itself was the law-making power within, 
instead of merely a judge to interpret the law already laid 
down. And none can ever understand this variation and 
difference in conscience until they remember that it never 
makes moral laws, has no inherent power to do so, but its func- 
tion is simply to pass sentence according to the laws already 
established by a previous action of the other mental and 
moral faculties. 

Hence the decisions of conscience will always serve as a tol- 
erably correct index of a man's mental and moral state or 
standing. If the mind is a heathen mind, the conscience will 
be heathen also. If a man has perverted his advantages, has 
become hardened and reckless and throws away all moral laws 
and considerations as many do, then the conscience will also 
become hardened and seared as with a hot iron, as the Scrip- 
tures declare. If a person is filled with prejudice, supersti- 
tion, or ignorance, the decisions of his conscience will reflect 
the same condition. If a person is weak or sickly in mind, 
conscience will indicate it like a thermometer. And, on the 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 071 

other hand, if a person is enlightened and properly trained, 
and above all, if a person has received and enjoyed the light 
of God's Word and of the indwelling spirit of truth, then 
the voice of his conscience will be to him as the voice of God, 
and to violate it will be to commit a positive sin. 

In all cases, conscience is not to "be violated unless it is op- 
posed to some knovm higher law, and then, of course, its 
decisions are worthless and can be thrown aside. The hea- 
then who has received no higher moral light than the light 
within, and cannot get any other, must obey the decisions of 
Jiis conscience whether right or wrong. There is no other 
course left open to him. He must obey something and fol- 
low some moral guide, and until he has the light of truth and 
the light of life, conscience is his highest moral teacher. But 
the moment his mind has access to greater light and will not 
receive or use it, the case is changed. From being innocent 
and blinded, he will become doubly guilty because he does 
not heed the voice, he hears, and because he does not try to 
make that voice clearer and more authoritative. 

Hence it can be asserted that the voice of conscience, 
when not opposed to any known higher law, (mark and weigh 
well this qualifying clause, for it constitutes the line between 
truth and error in this matter); we repeat it, the voice of con- 
science, when not opposed to any known higher law, is not to 
be disregarded except with peril. "For if our heart condemn 
us, God is greater than our heart." In such a case, the decis- 
ion of this judge within, will be very likely to prove only the 
echo of the decision of the Judge above. This lower court 
will simply anticipate the verdict of the Supreme Tribunal. 
There are few T worse sins than to go on violating the law of 
right in the human soul from day to day! 

But while all are bound to heed the warnings of conscience, 
and commit sin if they disregard them, this obligation is in- 
creased tenfold in the case of a Christian. An evil man's 
conscience may be wrong, or may be silent and feeble, but a 
true Christian is one who has been enlightened from above, 
and his conscience is, or ought to be, more tender, active and 



672 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

correct, than that of a hardened or worldly minded man. And 
although such a conscience will not be always correct or all 
waj T s active, still it is more liable to be a hundred times over, 
especially if its possessor is daily living and walking with 
God. 

As men recede from the written and revealed Word of God, 
or throw aside its teachings, the light of truth falls more and 
more dimly upon the mind, and the moral standard set up i s 
proportionately weak or incorrect, until finally a point is 
reached where the mind has nothing but the feeble light of 
nature left, and even this is perverted and obscured by vicious 
habits, sinful indulgences, and wrong religious training; so 
that conscience can only sit and grope in the darkness, or act 
uncertainly and inconsistently according to the light it has. 
. There are few more horrible things to carry about with 
one than a guilty conscience. It is something that men can- 
not shake off or avoid. It follows them, it haunts them, it 
lies down with them at night. They have to face it in secret 
hours, meet it in the street, meet it everywhere. It is an 
invisible and omnipresent enemy. And how terrible it can 
sting the soul ! It makes men afraid of themselves, afraid of 
God, afraid of death, afraid of everybody and everything. It 
is, in fact, an anticipation of the bitterness of hell. 

"The mind that broods o'er guilty woes, 
Is like the scorpion girt by fire ; 
In circle narrowing as it glows, 
The flames around their captive close, 
Till inly searched by thousand throes 
And maddeni ng in her ire, 
One and sole relief she knows; 
The sting she nourished for her foes, 
Whose venom never yet was vain 
She darts into her desperate brain. 
So do the dark in soul expire 
Or live like scorpion girt by fire ; 
So writhes the mind remorse has riven, 
Unfit for earth, unfit for heaven, 
Darkness above, despair beneath, 
Around it flame, within it death !" 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 673 

But conscience can be made an instrument of blessing as 
well as of torture. Says the Bible: " If our heart condemn 
us not, then have we confidence toward God;" confidence to 
come unto him as children come unto a parent for bread or 
for protection; confidence to ask him for mercies we need, for 
the pardon of our sins, and for greater light and love. Then 
have we confidence to come unto God in prayer for blessings 
upon others, and confidence to feel that our prayers will be 
heard and answered in God's own time and way; confidence 
to look up to him in filial gratitude and unpresumptuous trust. 



43 



G74 



THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



CHAPTER XIII. 



The Yoioe of Duty. 

O Duty ! daughter of the voice of God, 
Thou art a light to guide, a rod 
To check the erring, and reprove; 
Thou art also victory and law 
"When empty terrors overawe. 

Wordsworth. 

Humble toil and heavenward duty — 
These will form the perfect man. 

Mrs. Hale. 

"Birds by being glad, their Maker bless; 

By simply shining, sun and star; 
And we whose law is love, serve less 

By what we do, than what we are. 
Since service is the highest lot 

And angels know no higher bliss, 
Then with what good his cup is fraught 

Who was created but for this ! " 



HERE are times in every man's life when he is com- 
WM polled to choose between two courses of conduct. 
s '$~ Beckoning to him from one path he sees selfish incli- 
nation and a prudent regard for worldly good; and from the 
other lie hears the words, "Ye ought to obey God." Peter 
and John were in just such a predicament when, arrested at 
one time and commanded not to preach or teach in the name 
of Jesus Christ. Rut they said first to themselves and then 
to the magistrates, u "We ought to obey God." This word 
ovgjit embodied to their minds the law of conscience, the law 
of duty, and the law of right ; and the authority of these three 




SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 675 

-combined was greater and higher than the authority of the 
Jewish Sanhedrim j or of self-interest and worldly prudence com- 
bined. Hence it is to be inferred that the voice of duty is the 
Toice of God. The very word signifies that which we owe to 
•God. Our duty is made up of our dues; that which we owe, 
and are under solemn obligation to perform. The idea of duty 
within us comes from the idea of right. It is an original in- 
stinct of our moral nature; a sentiment divinely implanted 
for moral purposes. As God made man in his own image and 
likeness, so he incorporated into the very texture of his moral 
constitution, a distinction between right and wrong; and as 
•before said, the idea of duty is the correlative of the idea of 
Tight. If we see anything to be right, then we have a duty 
1o perform in, regard to it; and the duty is just as real and 
sacred as the nature and existence of the right itself. It is 
right to speak the truth; hence men are under obligation to 
-speak it, and to speak it at all times. It is right to be honest, 
iience it is the duty -of men to be honest; and so on through 
■all the list of moral commandments. Everything that God 
says is right, hence men are under obligation to heed and 
carry out whatever he enjoins. 

The foundation, therefore, of human duty is two-fold. 
First, the idea of duty flows from the idea of right, and the 
'idea of right is implanted within the soul by virtue of its 
godlike nature and capacities. In other words, God put the 
idea of right into us when he created us in his own image; 
.-and once in posession of the idea of right, the idea of duty or 
of moral obligation inevitably follows. 

If now we wish to go one step deeper and inquire, what con- 
stitutes right, we shall find that three, things enter into -it. 
Everything is right which is in accordance with the will and 
mature of God ; this is one element. All morality and all 
right and all duty come ultimately from the All-perfect and 
immutable One who lives and reigns above. No God, no 
morality, no right, no religion, no anything in fact. God's 
nature, as revealed to us in his word and works, is the source 
of both the substance and the idea of goodness, truth and 



bib THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

purity. We refer everything in the last analysis back to GocL 
What an argument this for the reality of his existence, as well 
as for the truthfulness of the Bible records concerning him and 
ourselves ! Human nature, depraved as it is, is not able to 
throw God out of its thought. What an evidence this that 
we are His offspring and the work of his hands. For if we 
did not come from God, and were not made in his image, a& 
the Scriptures declare, how is it that in all our thinking God 
is an ever-present factor? Plow is it that in the last analysis 
our thought runs right back to Him as inevitably and spon- 
taneously as the needle turns towards the pole? Why is it 
and how is it that when we have reached the conception of 
God as eternal, immutable, all-wise and all-perfect, our thought 
naturally comes to a halt, and rests itself there contentedly 
and securely? If no God existed, and we were not made in 
his image, would all this be so? Every mind utters a spon- 
taneous "No. Hence we say, right is made up of all that 
grounds itself in the nature of God. Whatever he says 
or does, is, and must be, eternally and immutably right; and. 
whatever he forbids is wrong. And with our moral natures 
as they are, this cannot be otherwise and will never be changed. 

Again, that is right which is in accordance with the truest 
and best interests of the world as a whole. Every man has in 
his mind a moral scheme according to which he knows or bs- 
lieves the world must move, if it moves harmoniously and 
prosperously; and all that falls in with this scheme in his 
mind he calls right ; while that which opposes it he calls 
wrong. This moral scheme or plan in his mind comes there 
partly by original endowment, as all moral ideas come, and_ 
partly by his reading and reflection and education. The study 
of the Bible and the knowledge of God's character derived 
therefrom, especially have much to do with its formation and 
clearness. In every devout and well-balanced mind this scheme- 
is a kind of transcript of God's plan. 

Hence we are led to say that all things are right which 
contribute to the highest and truest and best interests of the 
world together; while everything is wrong which disorganizes, 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 677 

undermines, upsets, or overthrows that which should exist; 
•everything which takes the world away from God and God's 
plan. There are certain rules and regulations in society which 
■every one pronounces right, because every one knows unless 
these rules and regulations exist and are carried out, society 
■cannot exist. And the same is true of civil government. 
Consequently, all minds lay it down as one of their funda- 
mental tenets that every practice, habit and custom of the 
•world which injures its own highest and best welfare is wrong; 
-while all that contributes thereto or enhances that welfare is 
:right. 

Further: that is also right which contributes to the highest 
-and best welfare of each individual being, composing the world. 
All men have a moral scheme of their own lives. They have 
an idea of that which is for their best good; they also know 
what will injure them materially. They know, how they 
should live and act with reference to all the varied objects and 
interests which surround them. They know that a departure 
from a certain course will be wrong, because it will destroy or 
break down the true order of life which they believe that God 
has established. And their idea of right and duty has refer- 
ence more or less to this moral scheme in their minds. The} 1 
feel under obligations to conform to this plan of God concern- 
ing them. They know it to be wrong to do or say anything 
which will injure the highest and best good of their souls. 

Here, then, is the threefold source of our idea of right. 
That is right which God commands; that is right which con- 
tributes to the highest and best good of our fellow-beings about 
us; and that which contributes to our own best and highest 
.good. ISTow, if man was an unfallen being all would go along 
smoothly. His idea of right and of duty would be identical; 
there would be no conflicting interests to come in between duty 
:and its fulfillment. The moment anything right was pre- 
sented to the mind, there would be a spontaneous movement 
•of soul in the direction indicated. But as it is, both right and 
duty have to fight for their lives and contend stoutly for every 
inch of ground they occupy. The conflicting interests are so 



678 THE IMPERIAL HIGIIWAY. 

tumorous and powerful that right and duty are often pushed 
aside or compelled to stay in the background. And hence 
arises a great moral and religious conflict which is going on 
in every human heart all over the world, between what it 
ought to do, and what it would like to do, between duty on 
one hand, and inclination or pleasure on the other. 

For example: here is an act which we feel and know that we 
ought to perforin. Conscience urges it and reason approves 
of it. "We ought to do it, because it is our duty to do it, and it 
is our duty because the act in itself is a right act; one which 
God enjoins and which is in harmony with the truest interests 
of self, and the world in which .we live. On the contrary, 
here is another act which we ought not to perform. It is a. 
wrong act. And why wrong? Either because God has for- 
bidden it, or because it is injurious in itself, both to self and 
the world around. Thus these words, "ought" and "ought 
not," stand as representatives of the combined voice of God,, 
conscience, divine right, and human duty. When we feel and 
know that we ought to do this or that, the "ought" here is- 
not only the voice of duty to us, but also the voice of God.. 
Said Peter and John to the magistrates, " We ought to obey 
God rather than men." Why? Because it was their duty to* 
do so. And why their duty? Because it was right. And 
why right? Because God had commanded it and because such; 
a course would contribute to the best welfare of their own 
souls, and the world around. 

It is quite common among the careless and thoughtless to 
pay little or no attention to the dictates of conscience in this 
resj^ect. It is quite common to hear persons say with a laugh,. 
"Yes, I suppose I ought to do thus and so, but then, we ought 
to do a great many things that we do not do, so that isn't of 
much consequence." But if duty is not of much consequence,, 
then God is not of much consequence; for whenever we feel 
the ought pressing upon the mind and heart, we feel the press- 
ure of God's truth, to disobey which is to die. Whenever we 
■hear the ought speaking in tones of persuasion or admonition 
or warning, we hear the voice of duty and of God speaking- 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 679 

To disobey the ought is to disobey God, and thus commit sin 
and wrong ourselves. 

The number of influences opposing tin's sentiment of duty 
in the mind and heart, are manifold and some of them are 
quite powerful. Let us take the case of Peter and JVlin as a 
sample, and compare our condition with theirs. In their case 
the first thing opposing the idea of duty was the command of 
the civil authority. The Sanhedrim was the highest Jewish 
tribunal, and it had commanded them under pain of severe 
penalties not to teach or preach in Jesus' name. This oppo- 
sition of the civil authority without, would naturally awake 
within them the idea of setf-p reservation, personal safety, and 
worldly prudence. Should they heed these, or obey duty? 
They decided without much debate that they would cling to 
duty, and let their personal safety take care of itself; and so 
they said to themselves and to the magistrates, " We ought to 
obey God," and we are determined to do it, irrespective of 
personal consequences. In this land and at this day we have 
no civil authority to confront the voice of duty, but we have 
that which perhaps is worse, viz:--an irreligious public senti- 
ment. On the whole, we think it would be easier to defy and 
break through a positive civil enactment, than this negative, 
indefinite, yet all-powerful public feeling or opinion against 
the commands of God. And so it comes to the same issue 
after all; we have the voice of God on one side and the voice 
of men on the other, and are called upon to decide which we 
will heed and obey. The contest here is between duty and in- 
clination, between what we ought to do, and what we would 
like to do. 

The disciples had to break away from the mass and follow 
their individual convictions of right and duty; and in so do- 
ing they had to be singular, and to take a position in advance 
of those about them. They had to stand where they could 
feel no help from earthly friends or associates. And so it is 
now, and so it will be forevermore. "When the dictates of God 
and the dictates of an unbelieving world come into collision; 
when right and duty are on one side, and custom and prevail- 



680 



THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 



ing public sentiment on the other, then no one is a Christian 
or can be a Christian, until, like Peter and John, he says " I 
ought to obey God, rather than men," and I am determined to 
do it, irrespective of personal consequences. 

Again, in the case of Peter and John, there were all of the 
selfish influences opposing the ought, such as love of case, love- 
ot pleasure, desire for personal advancement, etc. They might 
have said, "JSTow, if we keep on, we shall hurt ourselves more 
than any one else; we shall bring ourselves into reproach and 
contempt; we shall destroy our own comfort and happiness; 
in short, we shall ma,ke ourselves miserable and wretched in 
every way. Besides, we shall be pointed out as disturbers of 
the public peace, and we shall incur the displeasure of those 
who are good, honorable, upright, and law-abiding citizens. 
They might have weighed all these matters in their minds, but 
wdiether they did or not, the law of conscience, the law of duty 
and the law of God triumphed, and they said, u We ought to 
obey God" and therefore we will obey him. 

The same or a similar contest between duty and self-interest 
goes on in each soul not entirely given over to hardness and 
blindness. And what a struggle it is at times! There is the 
love of ease, the love of sinful pleasure, the desire for personal 
advancement, the craving of ambition and lust, all pulling one 
w r ay, and on the other side, there is this all-powerful senti. 
ment of duty; there is the feeling of the "ought " and the 
"ought not;" there is the voice of conscience, and of right, 
and of God; and what a battle there is in the breast over these 
great moral issues and questions relating to personal choice 
and conduct! Sometimes indeed it seems the heart would be 
rent asunder by the fierceness of the shock; but in every 
Christian soul the ought, the sentiment of duty, finally con- 
quers. No person is a Christian, or can be one, until selfish- 
ness in all forms gives way before the voice of duty (which is 
the voice of God), whenever the two come into collision. That 
which is agreeable is not always the most useful, and that 
which is pleasant is not always the best. Present enjoyment 



R 




SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 681 

must always be sacrificed when it stands in the way of higher 
and more lasting good. 

Suppose Peter and John had heeded the voice of self-interest 
instead of the voice of duty, how disastrous would have been 
the result! They would have lost all that they tried to gain; 
•ease, pleasure, personal honor and all; while, as it was, never 
thinking of self-interest, or at least not heeding it, being 
willing to give themselves up entirely to the guidance of duty, 
they gained all the happiness and honor which they did not 
-seek. And hence the truth of the Saviour's words, " He that 
seeks to save his life shall lose it, but he that is willing to 
lose his life for my sake the same shall find it." 

This sentiment of duty, this feeling and knowledge ex- 
pressed by the word ought, is designed of God to be the great 
regulator of every Christian life. It is easy enough to obey 
God's commandments when the soul is full of warm, strong 
feeling ; when the tide of love is high; but these seasons are 
short and inconstant, and when it is ebb-tide in the soul, 
there must be some great principle to govern life; and this 
regulating principle is the voice of duty, which is the voice of 
God. Does the question ever arise, why should we obey God? 
Let the sufficient answer be, because we ought to. Do not try 
to add any other inducement to that simple voice of duty, the 
feeling of the ought in your heart and mind. Bring your- 
selves to this standard, and your life will cease to be fitful and 
uncertain, now up, now down, now one thing, now another; 
but as the sentiment is duty is constant, so your action will 
be the same. 

Why should we pray ? Because we ought to, and that is 
•enough. Why should we labor for souls ? Because we ought 
to. Why should we live a correct and consistent Christian 
life? Because we ought to. This is our duty. Why should 
•we give money to God's cause? Because we ought to. Why 
should we refrain from all sinful and vicious habits? Be- 
cause we ought to. Why should we discountenance all wrong? 
Because we ought to; wrong is injurious. Why should we 



682 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

love and serve God? Because we ought to. It is God's com- 
mand and hence right. 

And so all through the Christian life. This sentiment of 
duty, this feeling of the ought, must govern and control us 
in all that we do and say for God and human welfare. To let 
self-interest govern us, is to let the idea of pleasure govern us;, 
to let worldly prudence govern us, to let the fear of man, the 
love of praise, the love of ease, the dictates of wicked authority 
govern us, is to give ourselves over to serve the devil. But 
to ask simply, "What is right? What does God command?. 
What is duty? " and then to do it courageously and humbly, \& 
to be a Christian. 




SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 



683 



CHAPTER XI Y. 

Time and Eternity. 

'Dropping down Ihe troubled river, 
To the tranquil, tranquil shore; 

Dropping down the misty river, 

Time's willow-shaded river, 

To the spring-embosomed shore; 

Where the sweet light shineth ever, 
And the sun goes clown no more. 

Dropping down the winding river, 
To the wide and welcome sea; 

Dropping down the narrow river 
To the blue and ample sea, 

Where no tempest wreck eth ever, 
And the sky is fair and free." 



"Where the glory brightly dwelleth, 
Where the new song sweetly swclleth 

And the discord never comes ; 
Where life's stream is ever laving, 
And the palm is ever waving, 

That must be the Home of homes !' 



OTHING is truer in the world of fact than this: time, 
left to itself, inevitably runs to waste; and when once 
gone, the soul has no bngle-call with which to sum- 
mon back the years that have flown, like birds, away. Hence 
the control of time is a prize, because it incloses such vast 
possibilities of achievement. A day or a month or a year* 
seems an ordinary thing, viewed superficially; but who can 
estimate the results which may flow therefrom? All that 
makes life pleasant or profitable, all that confers distinction 
and renown, — wealth, fame, happiness, love, beauty, virtue 




6S4 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

goodness, — hang pendent, like golden fruit, from the boughs of 
this tree of Time. To the scholar, it can bring that knowl- 
edge which is power; to the business-man, fame, and to the 
maiden the rewards of love and home. Every moment, there- 
fore, as it flies, goes freighted with incalculable value. What 
the air is to birds, or the sea to fishes, that to the soul is Time. 
Time builds all our cities, constructs our highways of travel 
and transportation, and develops the resources of our fields and 
forests. Time builds up our benevolent institutions and car- 
ries forward all ameliorating and industrial enterprises. 
Time establishes kingdoms and overthrows monarchies and 
empires. It develops the resources of human life and charac- 
ter, making the mind an instrument of untold power in the 
management of the world; enabling it to forge thoughts of 
such power that, when fitly expressed, they become like the 
calls of a trumpet in the ears of mankind; enabling it to set 
in motion agencies and movements which affect the destiny of 
generations and nations. In a word, Time constitutes the 
foundation-soil out of which the plant of achievement springs, 
and on which it displays all its beauty and fruitage. 

But, added to these material and mental possibilities in- 
closed in the germ of Time, there are also possibilities of spir- 
itual culture and improvement. In time, we can establish a 
connection with heaven, and can form friendships with the 
pure and good, below and above; can partly at least overcome 
the power and dominion of sin in the soul; can link our life 
and destiny with Jesus Christ, the world's Creator and Re- 
deemer; can become the recipient of angelic ministrations, 
-md make ourselves an heir of God to an inheritance beyond 
the skies. 

More than this, the rising sun of every morning gives us 
all a fresh start in life. Our mental and bodily powers are 
recuperated and re-invigorated. Waking from unconscious 
sleep, is waking up to new possibilities of achievement and 
conquest. All the avenues of industry open up afresh each 
new day, and present new and added features of interest, and 
greater opportunities for success. The beauties and glories 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 685 

of the outer world, the genial light, the varying landscape, the 
majestic forests and rolling rivers, hill and dale, mountain 
and lake, cloud and sky, are all given us to use or enjoy each 
new day. Knowledge and acquirement become more and 
more vast each day. Experience has broadened and deepened, 
so that the mistakes of yesterday can be avoided or counter- 
acted by the enlarged wisdom which we bring to the work of 
the morrow. 

Time also possesses great value from the fact of its inti- 
mate relation to Eternity. It is not enough to say that Time 
is the prelude to Eternity, because it is more than this; it not 
only goes before, but also determines the character of the 
hereafter. For Eternity will take us up just where, and just 
as Time leaves us. If there were no hereafter, if this life 
and this world were all we had, then this succession of years 
would not be a matter of particular notice. Time would only 
be valuable to us for what it brought from day to day. But 
this is not the case. It is not only true that Eternity is an 
ocean and Time a rill running into it, but the rill preserves its 
individuality even when joined with the ocean. This rill is 
not lost and absorbed in the sea, but maintains its own char- 
acter forever. Better is it to say that Eternity is a temple 
and Time the ante-room to it, because there can be no change 
of garments when once ushered within. Time and Eternity 
lie like two contiguous apartments, side by side, with but a 
thin veil or partition between. The actions in one are initia- 
tory and determinative of those in the other. In one we 
strike the opening notes of an anthem that is not only to be 
ceaselessly prolonged, but prolonged in the same joyful or 
joyless strain in which it is commenced. 

A stone cast into the midst of a pond or lake produces im- 
mediately around it a little circling wave; this gives rise to a 
second, larger and wider than the first, and the second pro- 
duces a third, and the third a fourth, each larger and wider 
than the preceding one, until the influence of the first wave 
is felt to the uttermost snores. So it is with our words and 
deeds in Time; they reach out in ever- widening circles until 



686 THE IMPERIAL HIGHWAY. 

their influence is felt upon our lives and characters forever. 

Previous to the building of Solomon's temple at Jerusalem, 
the materials were all prepared at a distance from the site to 
be occupied. Some were prepared in the forests of Lebanon, 
other materials in other places, and when completed they were 
brought to Jerusalem and set up. Can we not see, if there 
had been defects in the preparation of the materials, those de- 
fects would have appeared and remained in the temple as 
filially erected? Even so it will be with each man's temple of 
character. In time, we are working out the materials to be 
transported to eternity and there set up as the habitation of 
our souls forever. And whether the building is to be marred 
and imperfect, or whether it shall be to us a mansion of glory 
and beauty, depends upon the manner and completeness of 
the preparations here. 

Time not only merges into Eternity, but colors it; and 
whether the tints are to be golden and bright, or sombre and 
dark, will depend upon how we use the brush and hues below. 
Time also molds, as well as colors; for as is the pattern here, 
so will the materials be fashioned there. Time cuts the gar 
merits of Eternity; and whether our covering shall be a robe 
of righteousness or of sin, depends upon the improvement of 
these passing years. 

Now to redeem time from the control of evil will cost a 
large amount of resolute determination and earnest endeavor. 
All virtues and all blessings have their price; and if one de- 
sires to make these his own, he must pay the price of them. 
Nothing that we most need in life ever comes to us of itself; 
it must always be redeemed or bought up by paying some- 
thing for it. If the scholar desires knowledge, he must pay 
for it, and frequently it costs him not only the sacrifice of 
ease and pleasure, not only days and nights of toil, but even 
his health and strength. If the business man desires wealth. 
he must pay the price of it; and frequently that price is the 
loss of honor and character, to say nothing of harassing care 
and devouring anxiety. If the woman desires to be a leader 
of fashionable society, she must pay the price and penalty of 



SAFETY IN RELIGIOUS LIFE. 687 

the position; and frequently the price is worth more than the 
object gained, for she not only has to surrender all sweet con- 
tentment and inward peace, but also her moral welfare. And so 
it is with the redeeming or buying up of Time; it costs 
•something to get it out of the hands and control of evil. 

The on-rolling stream of Time must be served as we serve 
any other stream that we desire to utilize for human welfare; 
it must be turned out of its naturally wild and often useless 
•channel, and made to flow into another one where it will turn 
wheels and propel machinery. And when both water-power 
and time-power are thus forced out of their natural course 
into a useful one, they are said to be redeemed. The ele- 
ment of Time is like all other elements, lire or water for ex- 
ample, a good and indispensable servant, but a bad master. 
If Time controls us, it will surely drift us downwards to end- 
less misery; but, controlling it, we can yoke it as a winged 
steed to the car of resolute thought and holy effort, and com- 
pel it to bear us safely and honorably through life, and then 
set us down triumphantly at Heaven's pearly gates. 




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